My eyes brightened when I saw the forecast: showers beginning Friday, continuing through Saturday and Sunday, with sunshine returning Monday morning.
I love drippy weekends. Even though they cut into my convertible drive-time, even though they make my rosebuds ball up and rot, even though they make my friends unhappy because their plans for beach-days or BBQs or mountain drives or afternoon walks get washed out, despite this I still love drippy, rainy, dreary weekends.
Rainy weekends mean I don’t have to mow the lawn.
Rainy weekends mean I don’t feel guilty about not washing the car.
Rainy weekends mean I can let my glass of red wine breathe for a bit while I sit on the deck overlooking the greenery, smelling the fresh, moist air, listening to the birds at the feeder and the drip, drip, drip of the water falling from the trees.
Rainy weekends mean bundled up mornings with warm coffee and a perhaps shot of brandy.
Rainy weekends mean spending time with those closest to me.
Rainy weekends mean quiet.
And I like that all to pieces.
k
You put it so well! My youngest son and I also love a rainy day. We’re both bookworms and it relieves us of the guilt of not doing something more adventurous and outdoorsy.
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I see all these adverts and pictures of “active” people out doing stuff on their boats or their bikes or their skis and I think, that’s just not me. I spend plenty of time outside, but don’t have to leave home to do that. Books, movies, and just quiet time in the garden are good enough for me. Thanks, Kay.
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I’m just pleased that the newly established plants will get some fully saturated ground for the first time in… a week or two?
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Hopefully it’ll be enough precip to give you that. Sometimes these “rainy” days of early summer are just dreary and not really rainy. Looks good today, though. So far so good.
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