"Push 'em back! Push 'em back! Wa-a-ay back!," was a football cheer in high school, and someone in charge of weather must have been saying this about the arrival of the rain. The atmospheric river predicted for Tuesday was a no-show. Oh, some sprinkles did fall. Care to hazard a guess as to when? Two steps off the porch on my way to the barn last evening, just enough to frizz my hair and cause pandemonium among the goats. Now they're saying the "big rain" (flood warnings, even) will fall on Thursday. I hope Nature quits this fooling around and either gets it over with or forgets about the whole thing before it gets pushed back and ruins Christmas.
One good thing about the slight delay, I was able to restock the wood rack with dry logs during the day. I've filled my little red wagon with firewood in the rain before, but one thing I will not do is go to the woodpile at night. The footing is treacherous in the dark, and the pile is a favorite hangout for black widows (always wear heavy leather gloves). I've found snake skins in there, and squirrel nests and hibernating lizards. One just never knows, and I'm not willing to take a chance.
This watch-and-wait routine is wearing.