In the thick woods up behind our house a building is going up. There’s a lot of hammering and sawing sounds, but I don’t mind them; it’s a rather pleasant summer sound. We can’t even see it from where we live.
But the other morning, as I looked at more gray skies and listened to more wet forecasts, I thought, “Wait a minute. That’s a pretty big house up there, so big I think it’s…… Oh my God, it’s an ark!”
I had put off writing about the interminable rain, thinking that by the time my words got into print it would surely have stopped raining. That was weeks ago. It’s still raining.
This rain makes me crabby. I can’t even complain because everybody I know feels the same way. I’m sick of damp. I’m fed up with mold. We can’t keep up with the lawn which is more like a field of hay that could satisfy a herd of buffalo.
I read once that if it rains on St. Swithin’s feast day, it will rain for 40 more days. I thought that must be it, but then looked up the date for the saint and found it to be July 15. It hasn’t even happened yet! However, reading further, I found the same holds true for a bright sunny day. Kind of a summer Groundhog Day. So keep your fingers crossed and your umbrella handy for July 15.
This is the time of year for celebrations of many kinds: graduations, wedding, reunions and the like. Most would benefit from dry weather for the festivities. Yet, this year’s drizzle drove many a merrymaker indoors. Some graduations lucked out; others got rained out.
The weather forecasters explain their predictions in this area in how they relate to the Red Sox game of the day: “The thunderstorms should hold off until the fifth inning.” The porch light keeps turning itself on because it’s so dark all the time.
The gardens are soggy. Tomato plants have no buds; basil leaves are acid yellow and taste like chemicals; flowers are anemic. We should have planted a crop of rice. A friend took his youngsters to the Townshend Dam for a swim in the pouring rain. “What difference does it make?” he reasoned.
I’m using the electric dryer for laundry and wonder how I got along in the olden days when I had to hang everything out. We must have walked around in mildewed clothes all summer long during rainy spells like this. And I’m sure there was weather like this but right now it seems like the rainiest it’s ever been.
Our cat lies on her back, watching the mice dance by her nose. She was once a wonderful mouser but in this weather she’s completely lost interest in her job. The only thing that gets her attention in a hurry is thunder; she waits out the big boomers cowering on the cellar stairs.
Maybe I’ll walk over to the new building and see if there are any animal couples wandering around. I’m prepared to make reservations.