Rain
We are in the midst of the wettest six months
in the history of central Texas.
I kid you not.
We're walking around with swollen joints
and clothes that smell of mildew
and bewildered looks on our upturned faces.
And you should see our hair!
But, everyone asserts, "We can't complain..."
Because, really, what is the alternative?
110 degrees and crispy-brown St. Augustine laid across every front yard in town?
We'll take the rain.
The creeks are full to bursting, the swimming holes are brisk, and the mornings are lazier.
Rain makes a person want to pour a second cup of tea, read another chapter and stay in the ol' jammies 'til noon.
There's mud to sweep from the stoop, but why bother?
in the history of central Texas.
I kid you not.
We're walking around with swollen joints
and clothes that smell of mildew
and bewildered looks on our upturned faces.
And you should see our hair!
But, everyone asserts, "We can't complain..."
Because, really, what is the alternative?
110 degrees and crispy-brown St. Augustine laid across every front yard in town?
We'll take the rain.
The creeks are full to bursting, the swimming holes are brisk, and the mornings are lazier.
Rain makes a person want to pour a second cup of tea, read another chapter and stay in the ol' jammies 'til noon.
There's mud to sweep from the stoop, but why bother?
