We're now in the rainy season in Nicaragua, which means that it is (slightly) cooler and at times we have torrential downpours. When the rains commence, we also think about our roof. Most of the time our roof is just something above our heads to keep the sun off of us. But during the rainy season we remember that our roof is tin (or zinc or whatever material roofs are made of these days). We remember because the roof suddenly becomes a noticeable part of life - it roars at us. Well, the roar comes from the downpour-on-metal. The noise loud enough to drown out anything - conversation, music, thinking, etc. There are times when we have to stop conversations completely because rain makes such a racket on our roof. Last night it woke me up in the middle of the night with its roaring.
The roof is something I usually take for granted, but I now recognize what a luxury it is to stay dry when it rains. There are plenty of people in Nicaragua who have only plastic tarps above them, or critter-infested thatched roofs. We are grateful for a solid roof over our heads; when the roof roars now, I give thanks.
(above, Simon and Beth watch the rivulets of water from our roof pour into our patio - the ridges on the roof channel water into individual cascades of rain about 2 inches apart).
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