All things in moderation, as the saying goes. I enjoy sunshine. I like to sit in the sun and think pleasant thoughts. However, in summer when the temperature rises and stays there days for on end (and I have no A/C), I do not find that enjoyable. I like a light breeze. I even like a brisk breeze in the summer; it's a saving grace on a hot day. I do not like unrelenting wind that threatens to tear the roof from house and barn and brings down branches and sometimes trees. We need rain. If I had my druthers, it would rain at night and leave the days alone so chores could get done while dry. It could rain a couple of days/nights a week and that would be good in my book. Weeks and weeks of pouring-down rain day and night with minimal breaks is overkill and I want to know where the Complaint Department is, because I sure have a complaint about the current situation. We definitely need a Weather Moderator.
During a brief respite yesterday I was able to bring a couple of wagon loads of firewood to the porch, not enough, but it will have to do. That pile of big logs is getting pretty low. There is a secondary pile of good-sized branches and smaller logs, so I wasn't too worried until yesterday I saw that the furshluggin wind had whipped off the tarp and the pile was drenched. That wood is unusable until it dries out, which can only happen when the dadratted rain stops. Clay had brought up a pickup truck and trailer load of huge rounds so there is a future supply, more than a winter's worth, I'm sure. The weather changed before the guys could come up, so the pile sits there. I put in a call to Helper Dude and he will come over the first dry days we get to split wood. Watching the wood pile go down makes me feel like I'm looking in Mother Hubbard's cupboard. Stove may have to go on a diet.
The sky at day's end was pretty impressive, and it wasn't raining when I put the kids to bed. I put down more chips for Sheila and Cindy; it's all I can do for them under the circumstances. At least I know they have somewhere dry to lie down at night. The chicken pen looks like The Land Of A Thousand Lakes (Minnesota). The pits they dig in summer are filled with water. I'm going to have to supply the little girls with water wings and floaties if this keeps up.
And it is keeping up. The wind is howling and the rain is beating on the windows this morning. A little moderation, please.