After a long drought and two months of triple digit heat, everyone in the Houston area yesterday exclaimed on their cell phones and in text messages, with a joy normally reserved for announcing the birth of a baby or a winning lottery ticket, “It’s raining here! Is it raining where you are?” Yes! We had all won the weather lottery.
The world outside my window is once again green — at least those trees and shrubs which survived the first two months of summer.
For me there is nothing more boring than a string of clear, sunny days. (Okay, maybe a presidential speech simulcast on a dozen stations). Some days I just want to curl up with a good book or watch a DVD or bake cookies. If the sun is shining outdoors, I feel guilty about staying inside to indulge in such frivolous pleasures. A rainy day offers me the perfect excuse. “Of course I would be outside weeding what’s left of my yard or washing my car or walking my dog but…”
This morning, following yesterday’s showers, it was so humid outside we woke up in a submarine world. Condensation coated every single window so that we looked out at the fresh, green yard through a thick film of water. I hummed “We all live in a yellow submarine…” as I snapped on my dogs’ leashes and stepped out into the wild, wet world.