There's no more comforting of a sound to the human ear than rain on a window pane in spring.

No matter if you live in a city or out in the country, humans in general are hardwired to be attuned to precipitation. Perhaps it's a residual sense leftover from our more primitive ancestors, who saw rain as a blessing that brought life. Maybe it's a gift from our Creator reminding us to be still and let our bodies rest. Maybe it's just a natural evolutionary trigger in our human brains that tells us rain equals good hunting, better crops and a better year for our survival.

It's just about the happiest sound on Earth, whatever the reason.

In our farming world, rain is the one thing that can make or break our business. No other unknown has so much power over our lives. We can plan our production cycles and our marketing decisions, but we can't control whether or not we have moisture during the growing season. Precipitation is our number one worry in our daily lives.

Afterall, what's the first thing prayed about during country church services? Rain--whether its a dry spell or a torrential downpour it tops the list.

What's the first question we ask a neighbor when we see them? "How much rain did you get?"

What's the one thing a farm kid learns to sit still for? The noon weather report and any mention of moisture.

More than anything I loved rainy days at home on the farm. It didn't matter if it was a gentle rain, or a thundering downpour. You see, it was the one time Dad would consciously take a break during his work week. Sure, sometimes he'd hole up in his shop, catching up on machinery repairs. Many days, though, he'd come into the house, take off his work boots and just spend time with us, his family. It was the only time I'd see him really relaxed and at ease--a rain meant he didn't have to worry about the Wheat crop having enough subsoil moisture or the pasture ponds drying up and having to haul water to cattle. He could just take a few minutes to rest in the knowledge that things were being taken care of for him--if only for a brief period.

Now that I'm older, I look at rainy weekends as a chance to dive under the down comforter on my bed and spend an afternoon with a good book. Sometimes I'll end up on the couch covered with one of my grandma's afghans and the dog on my chest and just listen to the sound of the raindrops on the windows as they lull me into a nap. To some it looks like I'm being lazy, but really, I'm recharging my human battery.

Of course, there are just as many times when we curse the rain clouds because we may have work to do that can't be stopped by the weather. There are instances when the rain is too harsh on the growing crops, or it brings dreaded hail and tornado warnings. I even find myself worrying now as an adult about the damage hail can cause to my property and the reports of tornadic activity in my area. But, if there's on thing Dad taught me about rain, it's that even the toughest weather brings blessings eventually--it's up to us to recognize them.

There's the blessing of when the clouds let up, the sun comes in with its rainbow and you realize that the world is once again refreshed. It's that first good inhalation, when your lungs take in the moist air, which pushes out the accumulated dust from the previous dry spell. It's the smell that fills your soul with gladness, washing away the odors from the bull pen, the fumes from the machine shed and in its wake leaving a clean, crisp scent of grass, trees and nature.

A spring rain, whether gentle or harsh, is a reminder to humanity that beauty and peace come from adversity and strife.

And it sure sounds pretty if you just stop to listen.

Jennifer Latzke can be reached by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com, or by phone at 620-227-1807.

Date: 3/23/05