While reading the paper before leaving for work yesterday, Bill showed me the graphic in the Daily Bee: seven straight suns.
At that moment, I was already in a good mood cuz it felt, sounded and smelled like spring when I had gone to the barn.
That distinctive aroma set off by those little brown sticky things that look like earwigs on the cottonwood trees was wafting through the morning air. The sun was out. Birds were singing. The barnyard was getting to the point of drying out as I made my way around stubborn puddles to scatter the hay for the horses' breakfast.
So, to see that graphic with all those beautiful suns was supreme.
To look out the window this morning and to see one more socked-in, dreary, gloomy, ugly day and to hear the beginnings of pitter-patter pitter-patter on the tin roof was downright depressing.
The wind sure left my sail.
I cussed while slipping into the barn boots and wrapping up in the layers of winter clothes. I cussed while going to the barn. I cussed while scooping up horse poop and thinking about how this time last year---after a really yucky winter----Lily had gone off to Spokane for training and I had turned the young ones out to pasture.
Well, this year Lily is staying home, thus causing three sets of hooves to keep the mud stirred up in the barnyard. The fields are once again filling up with lakes this morning, and turn-out time has been moved back another couple of days.
While grouching around in the barn, I worked on strategies to shed my ugly morning mood. I couldn't find too many tricks in my mental bag. Then, I started thinking about why the rain, rain, rain for nine days out of every ten is good. Something's got to be benefitting, I thought.
So, I started my list:
No need to turn on the hose to wash off those crusty barn boots. You've got new puddles between the barn and the house. Why pay Oden Water Works when Mother Nature supplies the goods.
Adding to that, no need to use valuable tap water to wet down the front-deck pansies or the broccoli or the lettuce---all of which have been outside for weeks, and like my horse Lefty (no matter how much I feed him), remain in a state of stunted growth.
Those annoying hold-outs who still keep lamenting that all of North Idaho will burn up this summer because of the mild winter and minimal moisture might start shutting up.
The mosquitoes are happy.
At that moment, I was already in a good mood cuz it felt, sounded and smelled like spring when I had gone to the barn.
That distinctive aroma set off by those little brown sticky things that look like earwigs on the cottonwood trees was wafting through the morning air. The sun was out. Birds were singing. The barnyard was getting to the point of drying out as I made my way around stubborn puddles to scatter the hay for the horses' breakfast.
So, to see that graphic with all those beautiful suns was supreme.
To look out the window this morning and to see one more socked-in, dreary, gloomy, ugly day and to hear the beginnings of pitter-patter pitter-patter on the tin roof was downright depressing.
The wind sure left my sail.
I cussed while slipping into the barn boots and wrapping up in the layers of winter clothes. I cussed while going to the barn. I cussed while scooping up horse poop and thinking about how this time last year---after a really yucky winter----Lily had gone off to Spokane for training and I had turned the young ones out to pasture.
Well, this year Lily is staying home, thus causing three sets of hooves to keep the mud stirred up in the barnyard. The fields are once again filling up with lakes this morning, and turn-out time has been moved back another couple of days.
While grouching around in the barn, I worked on strategies to shed my ugly morning mood. I couldn't find too many tricks in my mental bag. Then, I started thinking about why the rain, rain, rain for nine days out of every ten is good. Something's got to be benefitting, I thought.
So, I started my list:
No need to turn on the hose to wash off those crusty barn boots. You've got new puddles between the barn and the house. Why pay Oden Water Works when Mother Nature supplies the goods.
Adding to that, no need to use valuable tap water to wet down the front-deck pansies or the broccoli or the lettuce---all of which have been outside for weeks, and like my horse Lefty (no matter how much I feed him), remain in a state of stunted growth.
Those annoying hold-outs who still keep lamenting that all of North Idaho will burn up this summer because of the mild winter and minimal moisture might start shutting up.
The mosquitoes are happy.
The dandelions will stay in bed for the day.
The five dogs will have renewed areas for splashing---when I want to stand out in the rain and watch them splash around, that is.
Bill brought up a good one this morning. The mud boggers up at Moyie won't have to spit on the ground to work up some muck. Mother Nature will upchuck plenty of material for their weekend of cruising through the bogs and camping in the rain.
I do remember hearing the K102 announcer yesterday saying they could have a great weekend of camping but be sure to take warm clothing.
Should have listened to that warning and taken it more seriously while I was blissfully at work with various outdoor yard and garden projects, knowing we had a whole week of this beautiful weather to enjoy.
Sadly, I had been a believer because a similar seven straight suns graphic had also appeared on Tom Sherry's KREM weather forecast Thursday night.
So much promise, so little delivery.
Well, Mother Nature is delivering this morning, and it's obvious I won't be happy going into my usual outdoor labors today. Maybe that weather forecast was a bit like the stages just before delivering a newborn.
False labor pains lure us into action, but then someone reads the dilation meter and informs us to go home and come back in a day or two.
Maybe I should take a hint from that concept, go back to bed and sleep a while longer. Maybe when I fall into a deep slumber, I'll be awakened by the warmth of that brand-new baby sun shining through the window and smiling at me.
Would I be so lucky!
Happy Saturday, especially if you're somewhere besides wet North Idaho, enjoying sunshine on your shoulders.
1 comment:
Beautiful day on the west side of the mountains today. That seems a bit backward - but the sun should be headed your way.
Janet
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