Rain, Rain
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again some other day!
All the children want to play.
Rain, rain, go away.
I've always been a little skittish about singing that song with my preschoolers, because rain can be a scarce commodity here in the Nebraska panhandle. But we sang it anyway this spring, even for our spring program. And, guess what? It has been a perfect year to sing that song, because it just keeps on raining! I haven't seen so much rain since we lived in Michigan.
I used to laugh to myself when someone repeated that old ditty, "April showers bring May flowers," because it really doesn't rain much here in April, or May. Most years, it would be better to say something like "March snow brings grass to mow!" But this year, March was a beautiful month, full of promise of the spring to come.
This year, March lied!
Though cool, April was a reasonable month, with little rain, and no snow, either. And May Day was a perfect day to pull out the crepe paper streamers for a makeshift Maypole dance around the ball drop on the preschool playground.
But then, the rains began. And then it snowed, first a few inches, and then, a few days later, a Mother's Day blizzard left a foot or more of heavy, wet slush across much of the panhandle.
The only good thing about May snow is that it melts in a hurry. After that, the rains continued in earnest. So far this month, we've had more than ten inches of moisture. That's two-thirds of our normal yearly rainfall total--and it's still raining!
I can't plant a garden in the mud. Even worse, the farmers can't plant their beans. The corn seedlings are stunted and yellow, if they are alive at all. Fields are muddy or flooded. The North Platte River is bank full, wherever it isn't overflowing. The farmers are beyond cranky. Desperate parents are sending their children outside to play in the puddles. Only the mosquitoes, and probably the ticks, are happy with this perfect breeding weather.
Here in western Nebraska, umbrellas are a rare sight. But, this morning, I spotted one of my neighbors, out with an umbrella, walking her dog. That just doesn't happen here! This part of the country was once called the Great American Desert for good reason. Usually, when it rains here, we wait it out until the rain stops in an hour or so. In times of drought, we stand on our porches to breathe in that heady smell of rain, or we dash outside just to feel the cool, refreshing raindrops on our upturned faces. Here, no one owns rain boots or raincoats.
When Erin was three years old, she begged for a raincoat. I found one at a thrift store, so I bought it for her. The only time she wore it was when our neighbor boy wouldn't stop assaulting her with his squirt gun.
In a couple of months, when those sultry summer days seem to last forever, we will undoubtedly be longing for a return to these rainy May days. Eventually, we will see the good in all of this rain. The sandhills will be green all summer. The roadside ditches will be covered with beautifully blooming flowers. Even the cactus will bloom this year. Irrigation water will be plentiful when it is finally needed. And, best of all, the Ogallala Aquifer will be replenished, so it can provide ample drinking water for millions of people for years to come.
Come again some other day!
All the children want to play.
Rain, rain, go away.
I've always been a little skittish about singing that song with my preschoolers, because rain can be a scarce commodity here in the Nebraska panhandle. But we sang it anyway this spring, even for our spring program. And, guess what? It has been a perfect year to sing that song, because it just keeps on raining! I haven't seen so much rain since we lived in Michigan.
I used to laugh to myself when someone repeated that old ditty, "April showers bring May flowers," because it really doesn't rain much here in April, or May. Most years, it would be better to say something like "March snow brings grass to mow!" But this year, March was a beautiful month, full of promise of the spring to come.
This year, March lied!
Though cool, April was a reasonable month, with little rain, and no snow, either. And May Day was a perfect day to pull out the crepe paper streamers for a makeshift Maypole dance around the ball drop on the preschool playground.
But then, the rains began. And then it snowed, first a few inches, and then, a few days later, a Mother's Day blizzard left a foot or more of heavy, wet slush across much of the panhandle.
I can't plant a garden in the mud. Even worse, the farmers can't plant their beans. The corn seedlings are stunted and yellow, if they are alive at all. Fields are muddy or flooded. The North Platte River is bank full, wherever it isn't overflowing. The farmers are beyond cranky. Desperate parents are sending their children outside to play in the puddles. Only the mosquitoes, and probably the ticks, are happy with this perfect breeding weather.
Here in western Nebraska, umbrellas are a rare sight. But, this morning, I spotted one of my neighbors, out with an umbrella, walking her dog. That just doesn't happen here! This part of the country was once called the Great American Desert for good reason. Usually, when it rains here, we wait it out until the rain stops in an hour or so. In times of drought, we stand on our porches to breathe in that heady smell of rain, or we dash outside just to feel the cool, refreshing raindrops on our upturned faces. Here, no one owns rain boots or raincoats.
When Erin was three years old, she begged for a raincoat. I found one at a thrift store, so I bought it for her. The only time she wore it was when our neighbor boy wouldn't stop assaulting her with his squirt gun.
In a couple of months, when those sultry summer days seem to last forever, we will undoubtedly be longing for a return to these rainy May days. Eventually, we will see the good in all of this rain. The sandhills will be green all summer. The roadside ditches will be covered with beautifully blooming flowers. Even the cactus will bloom this year. Irrigation water will be plentiful when it is finally needed. And, best of all, the Ogallala Aquifer will be replenished, so it can provide ample drinking water for millions of people for years to come.
 |
| King of the gutter; king of the worms! |
 |
| Rain, rain, go away... |
I just have to keep telling myself that God knows what he is doing. Thank you, Lord, for the abundant rain. But could you send some sunshine soon?
Then I shall give you rains in their season, so that the land will yield its produce and the trees of the field will bear their fruit. Leviticus 26: 4
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