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Message board > let ´s recollect our memories...
let ´s recollect our memories...
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Apodo
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I like the smell of the rain approaching when it has been dry and dusty. I remember once coming home from school in a storm and the rain was coloured reddish brown wiith dust. It made a mess of my white shirt which was part of my uniform and my bike handlebars were covered with muddy red spots. |
20 Jul 2011
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douglas
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A Rain Memory:
(Mar �s comment about doing a rain danced reminded me of this).
Growing up in California, my parents have always had a very keen interest in California history, especially in the indians that lived there and how they lived before the "white man" came. It was not uncommon for us as children to spend our weekends playing at one of the California missions that Father Sera http://www.sfmuseum.org/bio/jserra.html had founded or searching for arrowheads in the Californ�a foothills. My parents also liked crafting, so we would try to do crafts in the "old" ways--not a bad childhood despite being poor.
At some point my mother began giving talks about life on the California coast in the early years--especially about life as a Chumash indian http://www.santaynezchumash.org/history.html . She had lots of hands-on things that let the smaller children to get a real feel for the life. For her younger groups she would take the chlidren out to the playground and, beating her rawhide drum, teach them a rain dance--they loved it and Mom was called back every year in the fall (Halloween and Thanksgiving time) to give her talks in the local schools.
One thing about the California coast is you can be pretty sure it is going to rain at least a little in October-November. So inevitably, after teaching a group of children the rain dance we would get rain and the magic of living history and "ancient" cultures was brought to life in the children �s minds. What a great memory, thanks Mar |
20 Jul 2011
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joy2bill
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I remember lying in a camp stretcher listening to my husband huffing and puffing as he built a trench around the tent to stop the rain pouring in. I remember finally forcing myself to get up and help him tie the tent down which was threatening to blow away with our small children and all our precious camping equipment. I remember hanging EVERYTHING out to dry the next day, only for it to rain again that night and the whole performance to be repeated.
Oh the JOYS of summer rain in New Zealand.
 Joy |
20 Jul 2011
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serene
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Hello, Mariethe!
I like rain very much. I like its sound and the smell of the first rains in autumn after the hot and dry summer. Unfortunately it doesn �t rain often where I live now so I miss rain a lot and when it does rain I am happy and excited like when I was a child in my hometown. It used to rain a lot in winter back then, there were the occasional storms but usually it was this kind of steady rain that isn �t very hard but can go on for a long time. I remember those winter afternoons when I was supposed to be doing my homework and instead I would stand by the window for hours looking out at the rain water rushing down the street forming bubbles and little streams that crossed over each other. I used to associate those little streams with the veins I had noticed popping out in the arms of grown up people. I think it �s quite odd that I haven �t seen anything similar ever since or could it be that I wouldn �t notice any more...
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20 Jul 2011
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edrodmedina
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Thank you Mariethe for bringing up this discussion. It has stirred up some good memories for me and made me think of some other topics to bring t the forum in the future.  Ed |
20 Jul 2011
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ldthemagicman
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Dear Mariethe,
I live in the North of England, where it rains long, and
hard, and often.
Now, it has been raining non-stop for two weeks.
The sky is a blotched, dull, dirty blanket. Clouds are rolling hills of grey slag: memories
of ash in a dead, burnt-out fire. East and
west, the heavens rumble and threaten and groan, like a restless volcano, sharp
pains in the stomach, which bubble, and gasp, and groan!
Day, after day, after dreary day, it is cold, and wet, and
miserable. The shivering postman darts
from door-to-door, doggedly trying to dodge the deluge. His efforts, alas, are all in vain! He cannot run the relentless rain!
Waves of water wash down his back, wetting his Wellingtons, soaking
his sack.
Each sleepy door gives a stifled yawn, like a new-washed
infant, which is newly-born, and into the mouth drops a soaking bill: making household
misery greater still.
And as the heavens grumble and mutter, the dirty old world washes
into the gutter.
But when I
was just five-years-old, and I played with my baby sister, the rain was
different! The rain was oh, so very different!
The rain was
warm, and it shone, and it sparkled. It
was happy, and beautiful, and, most of all, it was friendly.
Even though
I must remain sitting on the floor of the lobby, peering through the open door,
cuddling my sister, we are joyously happy.
We watch
with fascinated eyes --- the patterns, the swirls, the sparkling rivulets of
gleaming rainwater. We listen with
attentive ears to the rhythms, the melodies, and the music of the dancing
raindrops. We joyfully clap our hands in
time with the orchestra of sounds all around us.
We are
happy. We are young. We are children.
And, as the
day begins to draw to a close, we must go to bed, so we sing a fond farewell to
our friend, �The Rain�.
�Rain, Rain, go away! Please, come
back another day!�
Les
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20 Jul 2011
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Mariethe House
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Thank you Les for this masterful piece of literature! thank you for the bright spirit you are, the sensitive man and thank you to.... the rain!
A tout chose malheur est bon ... what is it in English? every cloud has a silver lining?
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20 Jul 2011
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Pelletrine
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Wow: thank you Les for these strong pictures :o))) Feels like having shared each second with you, will definitely stay long in my memory.
Thank you Mariethe for the subject... it does bring up lots of past feelings and sensations ;o))
Right now, I�m in my bygone father�s house... some 1600 km from where I live. I�m sorting photos, books and other material stuff from a life that doesn�t exist anymore.... in a house I�ve never lived in. It isn�t raining... wish it was.
But, on the spot I�ve got strong roots and memories carried on to where I live.
On the spot, there used to be a small wooden house. We used to come here/there for the summer months. (later, my father and his wife decided to live there, tore down the wooden house and built a new solid one.... no!... it�s not quite the story about the 3 little pigs ;o).
As a child, it was like paradise: no school, the sea to swim in, the harbour to explore, the wind to play with, the trees to climb... I could spend all day in the tree tops, looking out on the sea, watching, and listening to, the small light-blue fishing boats coming in and out of the harbour
( at that time the boats had a "two paced" motor which would go " tough-tough tough-tough tough-tough".... now they just don�t make any noise at all).
And the rain..... the rain was a blessing: I would climb the latter up to the attick, and play under the roof.... listening to the rain playing on the roof, playing music, singing tunes for me... it felt soothing and relaxing... (you�re right ;o))... it does calm yourself and also our pupils down!!!)
Childhood-rain was always something playful and joyful, I loved to jump in puddles and feel the rain on my face.
And when thunder storms came: with my cousin, at night, we used to kneel on the bed, beneath the window, lights out, watching, quite scared and nevertheless excited, the show of lightning tearing up the sky.
Today, I still find the rain soothing; and when June and end-of-year-lessons-you-don�t-know-if-you-will-manage-to-finish come, I�m just so happy when a rainy day comes: because I know lessons will just be fine and warmly welcomed ;o)) |
21 Jul 2011
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