Both of my sources for weather news promise rain for the entire week. Since I can stay at home with my dog Grimm, who is afraid of thunder, I am actually looking forward to some rainy days.
I’ve dug up grass and weeds for weeks. I’ve planted herbs, flowers and shrubs. I am ready to stay inside for a few days and do some indoor chores I’ve neglected in order to do yard work. I am also ready to have an excuse to watch a movie or read instead of pulling weeds. Grading papers even sounds good when it’s 90 degrees outside.
An added plus is that the plants get watered without me having to soak my shoes and clothes with hoses that spew water in all directions.
As most things do these days, rain brings memories. Years ago, I had a rain stick. During one especially dry summer I would stand outside, look at the sky, and shake my rain stick. I can’t explain why, but invariably we got at least a little sprinkle whenever I did that. And the neighbors were so thankful for a shower that they never said a word about my strange behavior.
Farther back, I remember some of the local people I grew up around in Russell County talking about a mythical place called Peter’s Mud Hole and a fantastical beast they referred to as the Water Dog. Some neighbors could predict rain by studying the sky over Peter’s Mud Hole, but there was always the chance of the rain being lapped up by the Water Dog before it made its way to Jernigan.
And while I am on my trip down memory lane, I may put Johnny Rivers’ Summer Rain and maybe Lou Christie’s Rhapsody in the Rain in the queue to enjoy while I kick back inside where it’s cool and dry.
Marian Carcache welcomes
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