Rain on the Land

I love rain... And even a little storm...  But not much because I want safety and beauty for all around me...  But even though the farmers frown at me and shake their sad heads at my foolishness, these gray days suit me.  I will never know why.  They seem perfect to accomplish the chores of my world...to brew something delicious, to polish and fluff a room, to sleep for an extra hour, or to read a new book...

I didn't like rain at all as a child.  Afraid of every crack of thunder, I fled to my Daddy...  I think that's why I like it so much now...  He made it all so better that I learned to love the rain. I know he didn't say anything or rock me or any of that...  Probably just a story and a little job together with my small sized tools in my blue toolbox...  I had a little anvil, a miter saw...  And the cutest hammer...

He made a bedroom from our old workshop garage...  And do you know who sleeps there, right where he stacked his precious walnut boards and a cool, Slick slab of marble waiting for its cabinet?...  Yes, you do...  My room is that bedroom...  The little window in the east was right over his tool bench...  My saddle hung right over my laptop spot...  And the double doors are my two west windows where I watch the setting moon...  And my tv sits right where he anchored his beautiful vice.

Isn't  life delicious?