It's raining on the little farm this morning. It's one of those gentle spring rains; the kind of rain that makes the temperature drop a bit, but a warm breeze is still blowing. The sky has a purplish cast and the trees seem to stand a bit taller, welcoming the drink. All the animals are snugged up in their houses, peeking out, waiting for the sky to stop inconveniencing them with that awful wet stuff, except the chickens. I'm not sure if it's because they enjoy the cleansing rain, wings aflutter, clucking contendedly...or if they're just "too stupid to come in out of the rain."
Weather like this puts me in a nostalgic mood. When I was a kid, whenever there was a thunderstorm we'd all go out on the front porch (we had an AWESOME front porch)and rock in our rocking chairs and watch the rain. Until my mother, who instilled in me a healthy (a little too healthy if you ask my old man)respect of the weather, would usher us back inside to the middle room of the house and wait for the impending tornado. Now, all you midwestern inlaws are surely a bit more cavalier about storms and impending tornadoes, but cut me some slack. I'm not from the plains.
Luckily, this isn't that kind of rain. This is slow and steady with a little breeze, a good rain. It's the kind of rain that makes me want to go for a walk, splash in a puddle, dance, and just watch as the ground drinks up the moisture.
But, whatever. It's 7:30 in the morning and there's no way I'm going out in it. I'll just watch from my cozy, dry front porch, while rocking in my rocking chair. And you can bet that if the wind picks up and the thunder starts, I'll be back inside in the middle room of the house, waiting for the impending tornado. But, should the sun peek through the clouds today, I plan on grabbing a few more descriptive photos of the place to post. Wish me luck!