That day the rain started I was so glad. I gleefully talked about the need for the ground water level to be replenished and how the grass would grow green and lush for the spring. Then on day two of the rainy days, I began to wade in pretty deep mud around the lot as I tried to get things fed and taken care of. My old rubber boots, galoshes is what they are,were making those sucking sounds when I took a step. I know, pretty disgusting.
When the night never gets still and quiet, the rain continues to pound and the wind blows the trees into whooshing, I sure don't rest well. On the third day of the rainy days, I was a little cranky as I pulled on the old rubber boots and noted that the mud was clear up to the third buckle yesterday. I opened the door to a hard shower and wind gusts of at least 30 mph and the sky almost dark. The yard light was on and it was clear up in the morning, 7 o'clock.
The life I am so glad to lead doesn't include alligators and swamps. I am programmed to pray for rain, swallow dust, worry about the water holes and repair windmills. I am not so easily shoe spooned into slickers and galoshes as I am in old leather boots dried out and curled up and jackets covered in yesterday's dust. My feet were sore and the chip on my shoulder was a soggy mess.
Sure enough, my close relative wanted to clean up the house which meant packing all that Christmas and New Year decorations back to the shed. She was getting about half soaked to the bone herself and she had not been outside! The dark skies and constant pitter-patter of rain was prodding her to clean. You got to remember that I have been out in the squall and my cattle weren't any happier that I was!
The hot coffee and a slab of coconut pie eased my tensions enough to allow me to carry the twelve days of Christmas and two days of New Years to the shed. I was found on the third trip by the offspring as they swam by, so they offered to help. I sent them to get a box and I squatted down by the door.
Looking out the south door of the shed, I could see the trap we use for sorting was totally covered in water. I watched awhile and, lo and behold, there came a duck swimming by! I stood up, he looked at me and, if ducks can smile, he did! That was rubbing salt into the wound!
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, no matter how wet or dry it gets, I am still thankful mankind cannot control the moisture gauge. God, in His wisdom, knows and does a pretty good job. I wish we could protect homes and folks from tornado and floods, but we can't do that either. I suggest that we drain what is left of the deluge and be grateful that it wasn't ice. We continue to be OK even when we don't really deserve it. I mean that some of us don't, some of us are a tad more upright!
Firewood is all wet! Makes starting a fire a job!
Bill is the pen named used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 12/30/2015