Rain on an old tin roof

Story suggested by Linda Owen Guy                    Thursday 11 March

Pitter….. patter….. pitter….. patter…. pitter…. patter.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter

Rain falling  is a rhythmic pattering sound, like a lullaby it can help people fall asleep quickly. The brain unconsciously relaxes and produces alpha waves, close to the state of our brain when we sleep.

People listen to rain as white noise. Have a go, click the link – listen to the rain while you read!

Sitting under a tin roof, the first drop is a SPLAT! Followed by further splats and then a steady roar, making conversation difficult; anyway splashes will drive you inside.

As the  rain tails off we get an array of sounds:





tap tap

pitter patter



drip, drip, drip  …drip

After rain a strong earthy smell arises. It is rich and fecund, catching the back of your throat and prompts idle thoughts of becoming a farmer. Petrichor it is called.

The sun breaks through clouds. The tin roof goes skcilc, skcilc as the roof metal stretches in the warmth.

Author: manqindi

Post imperial wind drift. Swazi, British, Zimbabwe-Rhodesian, Irish, New Zealand citizen and resident, now in Queensland, Australia. 10th generation African of mainly European descent. Catholic upbringing, more free thinker now. BA and Law background. Altar boy, wages clerk, uncle, prefect, student, court clerk, prosecutor, magistrate, convoy escort, pensioner, HR Practitioner, husband, stepfather, father, bull terrier lover, telephone interviewer, Call Centre manager, HR manager, grandfather, author (amateur)

2 thoughts on “Rain on an old tin roof”

  1. Unfortunately the alpha waves increased whilst listening and I fell asleep before I finished reading.

    On Thu, 11 Mar 2021 at 10:36, sillysocksonfriday wrote:

    > manqindi posted: ” Story suggested by Linda Owen Guy > Thursday 11 March Pitter….. patter….. pitter….. patter…. pitter…. patter. > Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter Rain fall” >


  2. Absolutely love a “Highveld” storm. Cannot hear yourself think . Cannot hear your mother shouting for you to “get your pith helmet inside at once” . It starts at 2pm . The lightning bursts those gum imports in two and dances along the fences because the droppers are granite. The thunder rattles the mosquito frames and echos under the foundations. At 4pm it is all over and you and your friends are having races with paper boats in the rushing streams in the cattle paths. And in October you go looking for makowe, looking forward to a steak sized feast. You want to eat that petrichor flavoured soil.


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