Some folks never tire of complaining about the rain. They complain when there’s not enough, and they complain again when we finally get some and they want it to stop. I call them “Complainers.”
Yes, we’ve had more than our fair share of precipitation in the last few weeks. I don’t mean to downplay some of the inconvenience and damage caused by the recent series of atmospheric rivers that us mountain folks have endured of late, and I hope everyone is safe and sound. As for me, I just love a rainy night.
Well, I love a rainy night, it’s such a beautiful sight, love to feel the rain on my face, taste the rain on my lips in the moonlight, ‘cos I love a rainy night. (“I Love a Rainy Night” – Eddie Rabbit – 1980)
It’s relentless, the rain that is. I hear from my friends in America the next storm is headed this way from the Tropic of Sir Galahad. Not sure where that is. It may be out there near the Islets of Langerhans. Go ahead and look it up; you may be surprised.
Speaking of rainstorms, which I was, the all-time whopper, from Feb. 27 to March 4, 1938, brought over 30 inches of rainfall to the San Bernardino Mountains and filled Lake Gregory, which was still under construction, in just three days. There was a time, back in the 70s, when folks were advised to put bricks in their toilet tank to conserve water by flushing it down the drain. Others suggested showering with a friend. It’s a great way to wash all your cares away.
Showers washed all my cares away. I wake up to a sunny day, ‘cos I love a rainy night.
By the time you read this, the series of showers may be over. In the meantime, it’s nice weather for ducks.
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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