With a hat tip to Jimi Hendrix, I’d like to share with you, my gentle readers, that this has not been a wonderful spring. This makes me sad because I love late spring.
It’s my second favorite time of year. Oh yes it is.
However this year, to continue quoting Jimi, “Lately things they don’t seem the same, Acting funny, but I don’t know why.”
Which is me alluding to the fact that all it does around here is rain.
I’m talking inches of rain, daily. Flash flooding. Mudslides. Slippery sidewalks.
Overwatered pots of formerly beautiful geraniums and petunias, now looking like death warmed over.
Pots of herbs so wet they are existing in a weird soggy stasis, looking pathetic.
In the parlance of ye olde weather forecasters who claim to know why we’ve had this excessive, soul-sucking rain: there’ve been “numerous ripples of energy” that have brought more rain showers and thunderstorms to the region than are normal.
Uh huh. That’s nice.
However, be that as it may, while the rain continues unabated I’ll just contemplate “am I happy or in misery” while I’m stuck inside the house today in my own version of a caffeinated, irritable, non-psychedelic
purple gray haze.
Me happy. NOT.