We needed it, and boy have we got it. The unofficial fault-line between fire season and flood season out here in the Southwest. Given the possibly long-term drought we're in, this rain affords welcome relief. Soon the hills will be green, and rodents and snakes will multiply to feed our hungry hawks and coyotes.
Puts a crimp in my cycling though. The first rains float up all the months' acccumulation of grease, and wash all sorts of things from the trees and elsewhere, and on to the streets. As a would-be randonneur even dreaming of (horrors!) France, I should be tougher, I know.
At our local Middle School, the children started to run and play in the rain, to the consternation of Authority. Although I suspect it gave up on Propriety long ago, no doubt worried about slips, falls, the myth that getting cold or wet causes colds, and hungry lawyers, Authority harrumphed and tried to drag their charges indoors.
That's one reason why I could never be a school principal. Let the tykes and striplings cavort. This is the day that the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. I told my 11-year-old I hoped she would still play in the rain when she is 80.
Nothing personal about the principal, whom I like and admire. But the magic hat she's wearing turns the wearer into a stuck-up sticky-beak.
Cavort, children, while you can. Algebra can wait.
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