The sound of rain on a thin metal roof at four in the morning is unlike any other. I stood on the screened porch for just a few minutes this morning. That wasn’t noise; I’d call it music.
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That’s a great way to describe it, “swallowed by this sweet drumming.” That’s it, exactly.
Half my roof is made of metal, and it is real delight to sit there, beneath and find yourself swallowed by this sweet drumming, John.