Asa:       I loved falling asleep at night as a child listening to the rain pound the roof over my head and pulling up the covers tight when the thunder boomed.  In the 1790s in Dumfries, it took on a more unpleasant nature.  First, there were house leaks. Normally, one would just put pots and pails on the floor to last until the storm passed and repairs could be made.  But I remember one time when a small drip, drip over our bed suddenly became a small waterfall directly into Rebecca’s face.  I doubt she could even laugh about it today but at the time…. Second, there was the humidity and bugs afterwards. Lastly, it was the mud. Everywhere.  Everywhere.

When we had moved to Lexington and into a larger brick house, the joy of falling rain returned anew. Like a long, lost friend, it found me.  The window-rattling thunder, the brilliant lightning shattering the dark, and the torrential downpour of water still heard as the individual raindrops striking the roof.

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