Rain, rain go away!

When I first moved to the Outpost and – especially – when I began to optimisitically consider the idea of a lawn, I anticipated the debut of the annual Rains gleefully.

As I lay hotly under a single sheet at night wishing the fan puffing tepid air across me in apathetic little sighs would take its job more seriously, I listened to the after dark sounds willing the roll of thunder to join the evening chorus of local discos, the muezzin, the odd stray dog and eternal hollow shriek of trains. It never did though.

Until two days ago.

I sat sweltering watching the sky and witnessing the fattening of black clouds form as a scrum on a distant horizon. By nightfall those clouds had begun to dump their delicious cargo upon the Outpost. The sound of rain on the tin roof was music to my ears, the sight of jagged shards of lightening ripping holes in a dirty grey sky a spectacle to behold.

How wonderful for the lawn I kept saying. I even crept out in barefeet to inspect my vegetable garden and imagined the rocket leaves and delicate coriander rejoicing right down to their roots.

Two days later though and I am sick of it. The garden is sodden. The laundry heaped in wet piles in the kitchen. The rocket and coriander miserably floundering in mud.  I can’t walk the dogs not because I fear getting wet but because a sortie to the dam would likely leave me up to the axles in a quagmire. And by February, for we are unlikely to enjoy much of a reprieve until then, the roads out of the Outpost will be such that we are landlocked.

Rain’s all very well – and when stricken with drought we consider its arrival in poetic terms.

But if only one could turn it off.

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6 Responses to “Rain, rain go away!”

  1. Tom Says:

    Wishing you sunshine. Don’t get moldy

  2. Roberta Says:

    ….at least it’s not snow! 🙂

  3. R. Sherman Says:

    We just finished with two days and 1.5 inches of ice here. Wanna trade? 🙂

    Cheers.

  4. Primal Sneeze Says:

    I noticed the dog’s drinking bowl empty this morning and thought how strange that was – it had rained so much.

    A 2litre jug was filled and poured into, no toward, the bowl – all bar a trickle found its way back onto ME!

    I misjudged the force of the wind … twice it would seem.

  5. Mary Witzl Says:

    I grew up in a desert where it rained so rarely that any precipitation became a great novelty. Decades later, including a stint in Wales and seventeen rainy seasons in Japan, I’m still crazy about it. Just the thought of all that rain really thrills me.

    Not the ever-damp laundry, though — I’m with you all the way on that.

  6. gary Says:

    I’ve lived with thick, red, mud in Canada’s prairies and don’t envy you the rainy season! Give me the snow and the wind of the north any day. Wonderfully, descriptive lead-in line you used in this tale of woe.

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