A Rainy Day

As I begin to write this post, we're in the middle of enjoying a series of day-long gentle, thundery soaking rainshowers. There is no wind, and the rain is falling straight down, and each drop is finding it's way into the hot, dry ground.

Every good country boy in this part of the world including me will be spending some time today in the shop fixing things, big doors wide open, enjoying the smell of rain bruised leaves and grass combined with machine oil, ozone and grease. If the radio's on, we'll all be listening to either old country music or perhaps a distant baseball game. Secretly, we'll hope for a neighbour or a friend to stop by and visit. This is a good excuse to put down the tools and sit down for a visit on some straight backed old kitchen chairs kept specially for this purpose.

When I was a boy, the other alternative for the menfolk on such an afternoon as this one was a long nap, taken in either the Lazy Boy in the front room or on the day bed, which was usually found in the kitchen near the cookstove. I don't have a cookstove nor do I own a day bed, but in spite of these setbacks I'll bet money I can still take a nap.

Rainy days in the middle of summer are easy days down on the farm; they are a welcome respite from the daily grind in every sense of the word and they never fail to put a smile of satisfaction on my face.