The rain continued to fall, today. Hours of it. Delicious hours of it. Half the day. Delicious. At least the trees are likely of that opinion.
On the other hand, our neighbors a block down the street might see it differently. Runoff there tends to course down the center of their block, racing thru backyards on days like this, assaulting patio doors and flowing out the front if they’re not careful to construct passive (and active) waterworks to divert the torrent.
And Bill across the street probably doesn’t see it as deliciously as the trees, either, as the saturated ground forced us to call off our planned posthole-digging, fence-moving party today.
But the trees. (And it really is always about the trees, isn’t it?) The trees must find the rain that we’ve had to be a relief from the brutal drought of the last many years.
Bang. Slap! BANG!
A loud slapping-swatting sound came from down the hall.
“Oh, oh,” I said.
I heard a mumble come from the fair and industrious Trudy and the sound of triumphant footsteps crossing the living room floor.
“Was that what I think it was?”
Another mumble. “Yes…”
Then from the dining room, she added, “I don’t understand why those big roaches won’t just stay outside.”
Probably because they are fleeing the rain the trees find to be so delicious And probably because they are fleeing the toads whose song we can hear out back at this very moment.