Rain in Georgia

Today it rained. I don't think I was ever so happy to see rain in my life. Or smell it. Or feel it. After church this evening I stepped out onto the front porch to assess the conditions and was met by heavily wetted, scented air and no less than half a dozen friends enjoying it. After days and days of sunshine, the overcast neutrality of the light displayed each color and texture like vivid displays in an art gallery or botanical garden. The house here is guarded by the gentle green of an early spring wood, and everywhere there are blossoms and new life.

The rain always seems to lift my spirits, and I at once began to feel very much like myself. Together, the children and I and a few extras skipped barefoot over wet concrete, letting the precipitation soak into our pores. At length Tommy said, "Do you want to see the puddle?" Instantly alert, I replied:

"PUDDLE?! Where?"

"Its over there--you want to see?" said the snuggle bug and pointed in the general direction of the garage.

"Of course!" And off we went, circling the house till we stood, panting at the edge of a very authentic puddle indeed. At which point I jumped in, thus instigating the activity for the next half-hour.

Later a bare-foot walk was proposed. This suggestion carried plenty of enthusiasm, but was eventually vetoed--being rather less than sensible. I made the responsible decision--something I am often compelled to do because of my position as nanny, teacher, playmate and all-around awesome boss lady. Shucks.