Mondays are my days to work on the yard. It's a good day to stay home and putter, right after the weekend; I get to put on ratty clothes and sleep a little later. It would be a perfect day to work outside, if not for the rain.
It's been raining every weekend around here, and the rain always seems to hang around through Monday. I need to plant the raspberry bushes, and I'd been weeding the area where I'm going to put them until the rain drove me inside. Now it's coming down heavily and there is standing water in my yard.
When I started this project, I never figured that I'd be concerned about an overabundance of rain. My area of the country has been in a drought for some time, and the nine inches of rain we've gotten since the beginning of March is much needed. The water table and reservoirs are coming back up; water restrictions are loosening. Good news all around, really.
But it would be really, REALLY nice if we could get some of this rain during the week. Four days a week, I sit in an office and see perfect sunny weather through the blinds. Then the weekends come, spring weekends when everyone wants to be grilling, or biking, or taking the dog to the park, and - rain.
Then the rain hangs around on Monday, chasing me out of the garden. I've also been hoping in vain to have a whole day of sun so I could keep an eye on which parts of the yard are shadiest, but every day I'm home, it's overcast. Now, to be honest, I woke up with a sharp pain in my upper back, and the thought of kneeling and pulling weeds and digging holes makes me wince. Nevertheless, this is my day to get things done. It would be nice to be able to use it.
Still no sign of my carrots, although the dog has danced through the garden on several occasions and it's hard to see where the row is anymore. There's a big gap in the pea row, too, with no sign of seedlings yet. I hope they're not getting drowned. I also hope the rain isn't making the top layer of soil too dense for them to poke through.
Well, the rain has stopped for a moment. I'd better go dig up the raspberry patch before the skies reopen.
Kristen Halverson is grumpy like the weather. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.