Monsoon season in Indiana

In the summer, my attention turns from the house to the outdoors.

I garden until dark.

Until past dark.

I garden in the rain.

I'm certain people who drive by think I must be crazy.

If I am crazy, gardening is wonderful therapy.

When the ground is soaked, the weeds pull easily from its grasp.

 

It has been raining each and every day.

Yesterday, thunder and lightening overhead

as I pulled grass from the sidewalk's edge.

 

 The cat lay nearby under a bush.

He and I both dry beneath the dense leaves above.

 

Finally, after several strikes of lightening, I decided it was time to go in.

 The rain fell in sheets.

 

When I turned to look back at my garden, 

I went into the house to get my camera.

 

 When I moved here five years ago,

I claimed this patch of yard that was once grass.

Now, very little grass remains.

I love the rain.

My plants love it, too.

I don't understand why people often complain about rain

 when without it,

we couldn't grow crops

or have beautiful gardens.

 

The rain to the wind said,
You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost