Rain Rain and More Rain

Fay is dancing with us here in the heart of dixie. I have taken the past seasons' droughts very personally and so I think it would be wrong to complain about rain so I won't, but then, I haven't been in our basement yet.

Anyway, we were stage 4 drought last year with surcharges and water police and neighbors busting neighbors for watering "off schedule and beyond allotted time" and eventually it was necessary to euthanize my gardens for the season. Very bitter about that. Couldn't figure why God would withhold such a simple joy...my beloved gardens. Made a bunch of rainbarrels and hooked up a half-butt grey water system from my washer. Note: Rainbarrels sans rain are not rainbarrels, they are, in fact, very big mosquito malls. Found out that despite the water police and the dire situation (really, car washes and other water-necessary businesses closed...landscapers went out of business, it was a mess), my grey water system was not street legal. Fortunately, it was in the backyard. It was just a damned hose leading from the washer discharge, have mercy!

But herein lies one of the many contradictions of deeply southern thinking. Lawns are nothing short of a reflection of the character of the mower here and apparently, so are sidewalks because they all got automatically sprinklered despite the diminishing lake levels. Got to love a vibrant, lush sidewalk, no? Gardens here are a bit like pampered pets. Some folks just would not think of depriving them even a teeny bit.

Now, I am in love with my gardens because it's dirty and honest work and it feeds me somehow in my soul--explains a lot about God somehow, but they are in no way pampered. They are more like fond neighborhood strays who don't get into much trouble, but could never pass for house pets. I put gardens in where I don't feel like mowing. Not much planning. A lot of daylillies and re-seeders. Compost bin. Worm bin. Not the pretty side of gardens.

But where was I? Oh, yeah, rain. Well, when the ground is dry enough for long enough it sort of turns into something that won't absorb water. Maybe it's called hardpan? Dunno. But I'm wondering when/if the ground will ever accept this hard-won rain instead of letting it roll down hill and into the streets so the weather guys can threaten flash floods even in the absolute middle of kids' shows so that one of your twins gets very concerned about tornado safety to the point of near hysteria. And F.Y.I. a 4 year old is pretty much riding out the year in a state of near hysteria, so if you pump it up at all, for any reason, it might could turn a mite crazy. Crazier. I totally meant crazier.

So that was today. Getting that rain, loving that rain and watching that rain just roll on past my scrappy patches right down to the everblooming sidewalks.

There's got to be a reason, right? Got to be a lesson in there somewhere. Unfortunately, rain (as with just about everything else) makes me tired, so I might think on it some other time. I'll get to bed now and I'll crack the window just enough to hear that crazy rain roll by.