I love rain.
I love the way it makes the air smell.
In Panama we had rainy and dry seasons. In the rainy season it would rain every day, but at an almost set time so you knew the sun would come out eventually. As a kid it was great. We would don our bathing suits and cover the drains with palm fronds so that the street would flood, like a mini-swimming pool. (No, there was virtually no traffic.) The frogs would lay their eggs in multitude and you could scoop them up and fill tanks and bowls in the house to produce so many little tadpoles and baby frogs. The only downside was riding your bike home from the pool and having the skies open up on you. You could grab a palm frond or other giant leaves to sub as an umbrella. It wasn’t unusual to come home drenched to the bone, but the rain was so warm and happy that it was like taking a shower from heaven.
Now this year in Arkansas we’ve already gone 12 inches over our usual annual rainfall. It has rained for several days straight again and the sun is not peeking out anywhere, thus the problem. I have to have me some sun.
Where are you, Mr. Sun?
My roof is dripping in the bathroom again. And the roof guy told me I don’t need a new one? I’d get up there and see where it’s leaking if it would stop raining long enough.
My yard looks like a mud pit again.
I guess I shouldn’t complain. The westcoast is in major drought. If I could only send it that way for a day or two…