The day started with grey skies weeping over my dry garden. I loved it. Although the ground is still saturated from the spring floods, my vegetable garden acts like it hasn’t seen water in years. The little bean stalks make sucking noises as I walk by and the tomato plants are total drama queens. “Water, garden wench, bring us water,” they demand. A carbon dioxide sigh follows, and then a totally unnecessary wilted pose. I usually put my hands on my hips and point out how happy and healthy the weeds are doing with the same amount of rainfall. Like weeds or not, they are not whiners.
After the rain stopped, I went outside to enjoy the fresh air. It was rather magical in a Willy Wonka kind of way. Huge swirling hosta leaves were covered in glistening droplets of water and offered a day glow effect. Peony blossoms hung their heads from the wetness like they were experiencing a bad hangover. A large lemony butterfly floated from plant to plant unsure where to stop, so it didn’t. Booker, covered in mud, was as close to an Umpa Lumpa as I could get. It was beautiful, imaginative, and the best part of my day.