Monday morning I woke up to the sound of raindrops pattering through the leaves outside my window.
That’s one of the most soothing sounds in the world. I laid there for a few minutes, just listening to the rain and drifted off into a deep sleep again. About an hour later, my alarm went off and ended a peaceful night’s sleep.
As long as I can remember I’ve liked rain. I don’t mind getting out in rain — it doesn’t matter if it’s just a light drizzle or what older people call a gully washer. There’s just something peaceful about rain that I like.
Looking back, some of my strongest memories involve rain in some way or another. I’m not sure why. Some of the memories are good, some bad and some altogether stressful. But a lot of those memories involve rain.
Years ago, I had to cover a Troy State football game at the Louisiana-Lafayette. I left Troy around 8:30 in the morning in a steady downpour. Back then, we didn’t have Internet, so I had to relay on the weather reports from the Weather Channel to see what I was going to have to drive through.
It rained all the way to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. When I got on Interstate 10 the bottom fell out when I started going through one of the bayous. I was on this old, rickety-looking bridge that was older than I was. It was raining so hard I couldn’t see 10 feet in front of me.
Normally, I would have pulled off the road. But, there was nowhere to pull off on a bridge.
I couldn’t stop in the middle of the bridge, so I had to keep inching along so I didn’t get hit in the rear end of my truck. I’m not sure how long the drive through the swamp was, but the bridge seemed endless.
A couple of years later, I was in Starkville, Mississippi to photograph Troy State and Mississippi State. It was an afternoon game and the rain started before I ever got to the stadium. About halfway through the game there was a tornado warning and the stadium had to be evacuated.
I was sitting in a little alcove where the visitor’s locker room was located and could look out across the stadium. It was raining so hard that the stairs looked like a cascading waterfall. Even thought I was in the middle of a severe storm, I still found the rain comforting.
Years and years before those events, I was on a Boy Scout camping trip and it started raining before we ever got the tents set up. By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, we were all soaking wet and miserable.
We were sitting under what we called the kitchen tarp and discussed how nice it would be to get a fire going. But, nobody volunteered to go out and get any firewood. So, I put on my green Philadelphia Eagles jacket, picked up a hatchet and proceeded to chop up dead trees to get a fire going.
I ran into one of the scouts from that trip a few years ago, brought up the story about me chopping firewood in the rain. The funny thing about that was, I have no idea why I had a Philadelphia Eagles jacket. I was a Steelers fan back then because of Terry Bradshaw. So, I have no idea where I got the jacket from.
Staff writer Huck Treadwell’s column appears Tuesdays.