The monsoon rains of 2003
August 22 2003 by Tony W. Cartledge , BR Editor

The monsoon rains of 2003 | Friday, Aug. 22, 2003

Friday, Aug. 22, 2003

The monsoon rains of 2003

By Tony W. Cartledge BR Editor

If the Lord "sends His rain upon the just and the unjust," as the Bible says, then both groups around central North Carolina might just as soon get a little less divine attention.

Thirty years from now, we'll be telling our great-grandchildren "Yep, I'll never forget the summer of naught-three. That was the year of the monsoons."

After several years of drought, the Lord knows we needed rain, but every day?

We recently took our boat out for only the second time this year. I was determined to get it on the water, whether I had any fun or not.

I dare not even suggest a family camping trip, which triggers hurricanes even in a dry year.

Between showers, I devoted an entire Saturday to installing a path of stepping-stones so I can go out the back door to feed the dog without having to wear mud boots. My back still hurts.

I bought gallons of wood preservative to treat a new backyard fence in June. It started raining the day it was finished, and the fence hasn't been dry enough to paint since.

I've cut ankle-deep grass more than once - still wet - and watched my squash rot on the vine from too much water.

I've washed my car just to see it bathed in a new coat of road grime.

I've strolled into the grocery store under balmy skies, and then had to hustle back (with arms full) through pelting rain.

I've driven to the golf course for a long awaited first round of summer, only to be greeted by a torrential downpour.

I've watched Saturday plans get gully-washed away, and Sunday hopes go down the sewer.

And I don't know how lucky I am.

I've been muddied, but not flooded, as others have.

My towels won't dry, but there are people in parts of Africa who haven't had significant rain in years. I can go to the store if my tomato vines fail, but their lives depend on sufficient moisture to grow corn or wheat.

While I complain about a soggy yard behind my nice dry house, there are people sleeping under bridges, huddled among the puddles.

When grumpiness grows, perspective can bring a refreshing breeze.

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8/22/2003 12:00:00 AM by Tony W. Cartledge , BR Editor | with 0 comments
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