When my daughter was a little girl, maybe in kindergarten or first grade, what she wanted most for her birthday that year was an umbrella. Her birthday is in July. It's not easy to find an umbrella in SoCal in July. It's even harder to gift wrap an umbrella if you find one, trust me. She was thrilled, regardless. So there she was with a new umbrella and hot, dry skies above. I can see her still, sitting in a corner looking out the window, saying plaintively, "Mama, wouldn't you think God would make it rain for a little girl with a brand new umbrella?" I thought about that. "Come on, honey, come with me and bring your present." We went out to the front yard (who cares what the neighbors think?) and I turned on the water and pointed the hose in the air and my child marched back and forth like Christopher Robin in "Winnie The Pooh" under the spray. She was happy.
I'm thinking along those lines as I pass by John Deere (I think of him as John Dear). Wouldn't you think that a gal with a brand new tractor could catch a break and get a little rain so she could mow a yard or two (or four)? Although it was noticeably cooler yesterday, the July sun continues to beat down and John stays in his shed, probably feeling unwanted and unloved, definitely unused. Poor John. Poor me. That's what I'm thinking.