R is for Rhythm of the Rain on the Roof

Summer this year has been a study in extremes.  Scorching hot sunshine one minute,  black skies and pouring rain in a wild thunderstorm the next.  Hail gets thrown in once in a while just to keep us interested.  Last night there was yet another storm, followed by a cool overcast morning, custom-made for sleeping in.

Next door (and close to my bedroom window) the neighbors have a tin roofed storage shed.  When the rain is pounding down on that it’s easy to imagine I’m safe and warm and living inside a giant steel drum.  The sounds are musical.

Of all the songs written about rain, these two are my favourites.  I guess deep down I will always and forever be a child of the ’60’s.

You and me and rain on the roof
Caught up in a summer shower
Drying while it soaks the flowers
Maybe we’ll be caught for hours
Waiting out the sun
You and me were gabbing away
Dreamy conversation sitting in the hay
Honey, how long was I laughing in the rain with you
‘Cause I didn’t feel a drop ’til the thunder brought us to
You and me underneath a roof of tin
Pretty comfy feeling how the rain ain’t leaking in
We can sit and dry just as long as it can pour
‘Cause the way it makes you look makes me hope it rains some more

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain
Telling me just what a fool I’ve  been
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain
And let me be alone  again

The only girl I care about has gone away
Looking for a brand new  start
But little does she know that when she left that day
Along with her she took my heart

Rain please tell me now does that seem fair
For her to  steal my heart away when she don’t care
I can’t love another when my heart’s  somewhere far away
Rain won’t you tell her that I love her so
Please ask the sun to set her heart aglow
Rain in her heart and let the love we knew start to grow

Picture Potpourri

I’ve spent my morning pretending to reorganize things in an effort to make my work space more efficient.  Now that the clutter has been successfully rearranged (for better or for worse remains to be seen) I thought I might work on moving pictures around.  Then I decided chronological order is perfectly fine.

Here’s how the world outside my front door looked a few days ago.  It’s hard to capture a downpour with the rain coming down so hard it bounces back up again.  The neighbors car went from dusty to squeaky clean in two minutes flat.  And look at that golf course quality green lawn!  I continue to pay a lot of money for its beautification and upkeep while taking all the credit, although the rain deserves honorable mention too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here’s the next couple of pictures on my phone sent to me from the other side of the country.  A lucky granddaughter on holiday in Nova Scotia.

She gets to go to the ocean and I get to look after her dog.

Sometimes he’s very dignified.  Sometimes not so much.  Today he’s happy because I’m not going anywhere.  That makes two of us.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

With pretty weeds all in a row?  Picture number (what?) of my bucket of random plants over which I exercise no control.  I promise this will be the last one.  But look how interesting it’s all become!  Weeds bloom!

Blooming weeds close up.

Blooming weeds not so close up.

Okay, THAT is the last one, I swear.   To me it’s breathtaking, all things considered, covered in raindrops and growing tall.  Also my bush in the background is now covered in strange little yellow flowers which make it look slightly less bush-ugly.

And at last the tiger lilies have started to bloom.  Finally, something beautiful that I actually meant to have growing in my backyard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rain has been falling continuously since the storm and it’s still overcast and drizzling this morning.  Temperatures inside and out are back to something much closer to normal.  So now we can all stop complaining about the heat and start moaning about the rain instead.

The Storms Rant

Sparks

Sparks (Photo credit: PhotoGraham)

Now are you afraid? I’m coming.

Madness in the air tonight.

Grinning fury, threatening menace,

Blinding whiteness, hot as ice.

Do you feel it?  Cold descending,

Heavy heat begins to weep.

Crawling, creeping, rising, fleeing,

Off to wait, a watch to keep.

Can you see the branches dancing?

Swaying terror, frantic bliss.

Every leaf with hissing whispers

Shivers warning, blows a kiss.

Am I laughing?  So perceptive.

Yes, the rumbling’s belly deep.

Hard as silk and cruelly soothing,

Temper held and then unleashed.

Are you dreaming of the burning?

Sparks in darkness feed on drought.

Smoke and rain and choking blackness;

I could put the fires out.

Am I hell-bent on destruction?

Are you cowering, weak and small?

Bolts and volts and cracks and howling,

Fierce remorseless torrents fall.

Are you nodding off?  I’m going;

Wrapping up, my tantrum spent.

I’ve been harsh and you’ve been frightened.

Time for calm. I will relent.

What this night have I extinguished?

What ignited with the dawn?

You’ll remember me tomorrow.

Now I’m dying.  Played out.  Gone.

Early Morning Tree Climber

Look what I found in my tree this morning.  I thought when I opened the back door he’d leap down and run away, but instead he just lurked there for a bit pretending to be invisible.


After a prolonged staring contest he decided to come down.  Slowly and carefully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I expect this is what lured him up there in the first place, although I’m pretty sure it’s empty and the birds have flown.


It didn’t look this high from the ground up.  When he made the final leap, again I expected him to take off running (I’m pretty scary, bare feet in the wet grass, pointing and shooting).  Maybe I’d make a great wildlife photographer since nothing seems to be afraid of me.

Strange back yard adventures are exhausting and require a time out and a lie down beside the tiger lilies  to catch one’s breath and decide what’s next on the morning agenda.  Or maybe he was just curious to see what the crazy lady was up to now.  Nothing much, I went back in the house because my coffee was getting cold.  My little back yard intruder got bored and wandered off too.  But not before gazing longingly up into the tree again.  Maybe he’s just casing the neighborhood for bird houses and feeders and the odd squirrel hangout.  He’s in for a surprise if the magpies return.  I’m sure they’ll make it quite clear who was here first.