The weatherpeople predicted floods. The newsmakers were ecstatic--violent weather heading our way! Raincoats were donned, duck boots pulled on, constitutions hardened. And there was rain--at least an hour of it. Not enough to send you inside to look for your rain hat [who wears rain hats?], but enough to make everything dampy. Enough that, when walking between rows of tomatoes, your pant legs get rain-soaked. So when The Internet predicted heavy rains for the rest of the afternoon, we cut out early. I was home by 11:30. Since then, nary a raindrop has fallen.
It's the same principle that governs the irrigation-rain rule, which goes like this: If you spend at least an hour in 90-degree heat, hauling 30-foot irrigation pipes around the farm on your shoulders, preparing to water up to three areas of the farm, go directly home and close all the windows because, as sure as tomorrow will come, rain will fall tonight.
Anyway, no complaints. I got the afternoon off and made Strawberry Fool. And there was a dampy day off yesterday. I could really love rain.