The rain and the log home. . .

I love the rain. It makes me happy, it puts me at ease. This past month has been full of rain and nothing could have made me happier. If you’ve never lived in a log home, you should, especially when it’s raining. I have been home for a month and it’s had both its good and bad but one incredible good is the realization I’ve had at how much I love my home and how I’ve missed it this past year. It isn’t just logs, walls, rooms and doors; it’s a silent witness to the happy and sad moments that have taken place within those walls and rooms. I laid awake the other night, underneath my open windows and listened to the rain. The rain falls different onto a log home than it does on any other. At my last home the walls and the brick and the roof became a protector, deflecting the rain off with swift rejection. The logs, on the other hand, protect in a different way – they embrace the water as it falls and lets the rain find the ground by making its way over their curved surface. The logs were cool as I placed my hands against them and the smell of the rain together with the wood was wonderful. The smell alone is why everyone should live in a log home. As the smell of the rain mixed with the wood it created a cool sweetness, almost a musk, one of those things you can’t quite put a name too but you recognize it just the same; it brings comfort, it is comfort. I fell asleep to the sound of a symphony of rain and the smell of comfort that the wind lightly blew into my room.