Watching the Welsh summer drizzle, it dawned on me: we don’t hear raindrops.
Yes, we might hear their impact.
The splash on leaves or puddles. Or thud on the roof and splatter on windows.
What we don’t hear is rain falling.
However, we do experience being in the rain.
From the fine mist that coats my face and hair with a thin film. To the driving rain, hurtling almost horizontal in the gale, which causes me to retreat, if not indoors, then into a protective shell of waterproofs.
Certainly, we experience rain.
And so does the ground, thirstily absorbing every drop in an instant. Where did that go?
Or reaching surface saturation and rejecting the rains advances in a torrent of run-off.
Rain, or rather its effects, can be noisy.
But have you ever heard a raindrop before it lands?
This has been a week of listening to rich questions that have provoked more questions. And where we ended – with Thomas Merton’s reframing of who we are and where we are at the point in time we now inhabit – needs some pondering, which is why today’s reflection is more of a pause point.