Barbara Phinney is here and as a Canadian, I'd like to talk about the weather. And wonder what the sun looks like.
Yup, we've been having nothing but rain lately. Mind you, I live in a rainy part of Canada, and those April showers are two months late, so we are having gallons of rain.
My sister in law shrugged at my complaint. "We need the rain. The water table is low."
That may be so, and we all know God knows best, but when I see my poor little chickens huddled together in their coop, soaking wet, and my bean seeds floating away along with far too many slugs out enjoying the weather, I wonder if our water table is really that low.
I planted and weeded the garden in the rain. I discovered that even through a solid downpour, mosquitoes can find you. I laughed at the barn cats looking bedraggled and sad, begging me with their eyes to let their wet, smelly bodies into my clean house (hah!).
And still the rain continues. Our pastor's basement is flooded. Soccer practice is cancelled. The water table slowly rises to the ceiling level.
And still the rain goes on.
But I must remember that last year our early summer was awful, but August was hot and sultry and deliciously tropical. And while it's raining, it keeps me inside and maybe I'll get some writing done.
Like writing this blog talking about the weather.
Yup, we've been having nothing but rain lately. Mind you, I live in a rainy part of Canada, and those April showers are two months late, so we are having gallons of rain.
My sister in law shrugged at my complaint. "We need the rain. The water table is low."
That may be so, and we all know God knows best, but when I see my poor little chickens huddled together in their coop, soaking wet, and my bean seeds floating away along with far too many slugs out enjoying the weather, I wonder if our water table is really that low.
I planted and weeded the garden in the rain. I discovered that even through a solid downpour, mosquitoes can find you. I laughed at the barn cats looking bedraggled and sad, begging me with their eyes to let their wet, smelly bodies into my clean house (hah!).
And still the rain continues. Our pastor's basement is flooded. Soccer practice is cancelled. The water table slowly rises to the ceiling level.
And still the rain goes on.
But I must remember that last year our early summer was awful, but August was hot and sultry and deliciously tropical. And while it's raining, it keeps me inside and maybe I'll get some writing done.
Like writing this blog talking about the weather.
