Hallelujah! Amen!

It rained!  An inch and a half!

Turns out the forecasters get it right sometimes, and after months of not a drop of anything from the sky, they were predicting rain for the end of this week.

Thursday it was overcast… and Thursday evening it started to rain.

I mean, really rain!


The rain kept up all through Friday, and today, Saturday, remains overcast with a mist in the air!

Don’t know about where you’re from, but an inch and a half of rain is a big deal around here.  It means springs replenished, puddles in creeks, and fire concerns squelched.  It means moisture in the ground for a little fall grass and a downpayment on spring grass.

Rain also does humans a world of good:  it replenishes hope and improves moods and blocks the too-bright sun and in general makes things seem a whole lot better.  We’re all feeling pretty good around here right now… all because of an inch and a half of rain.

Here’s a funny story typical of me:  on Thursday, with dark clouds hanging low and a mist in the air, I decided that I absolutely must mow the lawn one last time before the rain.  One, to prepare the lawn to receive the rain, and two, because a little part of me believed it would be my last chance to mow in 2017, and I didn’t want to endure the winter knowing the lawn was all rag-tag.

So I mowed.

And then — enjoying an inexplicable burst of energy perhaps brought on by the cooler weather — I decided I really should weed-eat around the yard, too.

This is funny because I had not taken the time to weed-eat the yard a single time yet this summer — my negligence can be attributed to many reasons, a big one being that I probably am not capable of running the weed-eater without supervision, and no one around here really has the time to supervise me.

Another reason being that the lawn usually needs mowed again before I get around to weed-eating, so it’s been a dog-chasing-tail cycle of mowing, mowing, and mowing for me this summer.

But, as I told Beau on Thursday — my jacket damp with the promise of the coming soaker — we didn’t want to trudge through winter with an unkempt lawn under the snow, now, did we?

So as the Thursday afternoon mist turned into a light drizzle, he equipped me with the weed-eater.  Showed me how to restart it when it quit me.  Even changed the string for me once.  And then he watched out the window as I, determined and single-minded as I have been throughout our marriage, whacked weeds on an increasingly rainy day.

I continued with the weeds until the weed-eater got so wet that I couldn’t get it to restart one final time.

Then I went inside and watched out the window as the rain — real rain! — finally came down.

And I felt happy.

Rain’ll do that to ya.

© Tami Blake

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