I find it calming, soothing if you will, to be in the barn area when it rains. I sit on my little green milk crate and survey my small kingdom while scooping the peace over me much like the wafting vapors of a scent pot fill a room.
The goats are all curled up on their side of the barn quiet and mostly sleeping. It’s almost as if they could be related to the wicked witch of the West when it comes to rain. They barely poke their noses out until the rain has passed and the dripping has ceased.
The chickens are quietly pecking in the dirt under the rabbit hutches. They are out of the rain and looking for the fallen alfalfa pellets. They are rubbing feathers and clucking softly to one another.
Ducks are digging into the wet ground for grubs and such. Making muted quaks, they are so happy to be out and about in the rain.
Our lovely geese waddle about supervising what everyone else is doing. They swing by me ever so often to make sure that more feed hasn’t magically appeared in my feed basket. I assure them that if that were true I would let them know right away.
Even Tasha, our G.P., is quiet and she is hardly ever silent. Lying out in the drizzle, she loves the rain as much as the goats despise it.
I cherish my rainy mornings. The only thing missing would be a good cup of coffee, but then I would have to share it with the geese.