Rainbow Drops

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© Jeanne E Webster

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’””””””””””””””’’’’’’’’’’’
‘’’’’’’’’’””””””””””’’’’’’’’’’
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A little drop of rain, quite a dainty thing,
Can be a harbinger of a grand stormy fling.
Itty drops of rain, combined a million times,
Slush themselves into a cloud-bursting chime.
~
Tiny raindrops tap, a pitty-patter prance,
Tinkling out a soft-shoe clicky-clacky dance.
Ploppy raindrops clomp, a splatty-slitty smash,
Thunking like men in a five hundred yard dash.
~
Rain is thirsted after like dry on dusty dirt
Showering the earth in teeny tiny squirts.
Eager eyes anticipate the end of the day
When that glorious rainbow films its display.

Hallelujah!

Raindrops are Falling

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head

And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed

Nothin’ seems to fit

Those raindrops are fallin’ on my head, they keep fallin’

So I just did me some talkin’ to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done
Sleepin’ on the job
Those raindrops are fallin’ on my head, they keep fallin’

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me won’t defeat me
It won’t be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red
Cryin’s not for me
‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’
Because I’m free
Nothin’s worryin’ me

~B J Thomas

~

It is raining here.  No kidding!  I just returned from the store and the above song came to mind.  Remember that movie a long time ago, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?  This song came from that movie and plays in the background while Paul Newman (Butch Cassidy) rides around on a bicycle in the rain.

Well…I got to thinking…again…

And…I was wondering…

Does a person get wetter while walking in the rain or by running in the rain?  Yes, I know the question is frivolous, but I’m a wonderer and this is what I wondered today…so far.  I would love and appreciate some answers on this most important, pertinent but flimsy, quirky question.  So if you have a spare moment or two, please offer your viewpoint.

Today is for levity, so lighten up and smile! 

Shalom

©Jeanne E Webster

The Strawberry Scuffle

copyright Jeanne E. Webster

Ezekiel 34:26b “…there shall be
showers of blessings.” KJV

Each spring my husband and I methodically hunt up our green thumbs, shop for fresh seeds and plan out our vegetable garden. We plant the usual hodgepodge:  purple beans, zucchini, tomatoes, spinach, lettuce, broccoli, corn and green peppers. However, this year we wanted a challenge; we decided to try our hand at growing blueberries and strawberries.

Before planting most of the veggies, we set in four blueberry bushes and 40 strawberry plants. The blueberries were no problem: dig the hole, sprinkle the acid mixture and fertilizer, stir, and stick the bush in up to its former growth line, tamp the soil down, water, and voila! You have blueberry bushes!

Since this was our first adventure with strawberries, we read tons of literature on the do’s and don’t’s. Acid soil is a must, good drainage, embed each plant at the top of the root ball, allow each plant to send out only four runners, pinch off the first year’s blossoms, fertilize well and separate each row with plenty of straw. My husband tilled the soil, turning in the fertilizer and peat moss, leaving the actual planting to me.

Adopting the hands-and-knees position, I painstakingly scooted along the rows, setting the plants into their proper spaces. As a grand finale, I rose to an upright stance and whimsically tossed handfuls of straw between each row to discourage weeds from competing with the berries for nutrients. Gazing on the results, I could almost taste those bedazzling red jewels! The rows were straight, spacing perfect, and, “Look out, neighbors; we’ve got strawberries!”

Or so we thought. Showers are perpetually linked with springtime. How about gully washers, downpours, torrents, and deluges? Raindrops began falling on our heads and the strawberry
plants the day after planting. The heavens opened up and forgot to turn off the faucet. The weather forecast for the entire week was rain, rain and more rain.

During the midst of the flooding, the temperature dropped drastically and a frost was predicted. Determined to save our plants, which were now impersonating water lilies, we gathered some old sheets to cover them. I’ve never dallied in a rice paddy before, but I know what it must feel like! I set one foot into the garden to lay out the sheets and sunk in up to my arthritic ankles. Backing out was a real necessity. What to do?!

We hauled several boards out of the barn and laid them down between the rows. I attempted an amateurish high-wood act across them, laying down the sheets as I tiptoed across. This plan worked fine until I reached the farthest point away from any solid ground. My left foot slid off the board into the boot-sucking goop, which left me doing a balancing act on my right foot. Try as I might, the muck would not release my left foot!

Yes, the inevitable happened… I fell…bottom first… into the cold, wet mire, and, try as I might, could not get up.  Feeling like a fool, I wondered how many neighbors were rolling over with
laughter at the comical sight. Then it occurred to me. This IS funny!

My husband scampered to the barn with many a muted “tee hee” and returned with a long-handled pitchfork. It was the longest reacher to be found. Smiling graciously, he stretched out and handed it to me. I grabbed on and pulled myself to a stand. However, my left foot was still in the grips of the sludge.

I wriggled as carefully as I could to free it, but by this time the board was as slick as a goose’s left-behinds. The pitchfork had been withdrawn and my right leg decided it wasn’t up to any more
rescue attempts.

Yep! I fell once more … FORWARD …onto my hands and knees! Laughter erupted again! I gave up trying to look graceful and crawled out of the garden onto the green grass. Sometimes pride
has to give way to necessity.

The rest of the story? I did manage to cover most of the strawberry plants, miraculously. We look forward to eating our home-grown strawberries next spring and summer, and hopefully we won’t need to purchase a pair of waders to pick them. Just in case …anyone have a used pair for sale real cheap?

Dear Lord, thank you for the showers of blessings. It made me feel like a kid again!

Top of the Morning

A female Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes ca...

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

© Jeanne E. Webster

I cried out to you last night, Lord,
When I awoke with a fright
You sang to me a dulcet chord
And my fears anon took flight.

My spirit aroused with adoration
Your greatness sustains me, Lord
To fight battles of every occasion
Your might is my spirit’s sword.

You’re the joy of lithesome birds
Playfully pecking at bugs and seed
Gracefully into the air they herd
Oh, to follow them in secrecy.

The field is rife with weeds and clover
Plump honey bees fill their pockets
Sprinkling golden succor all over,
Showing off their shiny lockets.

Storms overnight ravaged the view:
Marinated soil flaunts bubbly pools
Broken tree limbs, bird’s nests askew
Aborted feathered life slumped like gouls.

Tall corn spikes, tomatoes green lumps
Bashful strawberries hid from me
Brussel sprouts showing nary a bump
Fans of elephant-eared broccoli.

Morning glory vines garnished with hearts
Stretched their ropes into the skies
Clinging, twisting in fits and starts
Formed a glorious, colorful sunrise.

Orange daylilies stretch out like fingers
The hibiscus displays her dinner plate
Hummingbirds dine well as they linger
Bleeding hearts thrust tiny orbed bait.

Rabbits have produced such a nice crop
Tiny fur balls hopping here and there
Moles and voles dine heartily; please stop!
My lovely green lawn is suddenly bare.

The arborvitae finally gave up the ghost
All dried up, painting a brown frown
The black pines appear as if in a roast
Beetle parasite time brought them down.

Home-made suet I hung on the pine tree
“Mrrupp,” says the red-bellied woodpecker,
Gorging on peanuts, he’s a real cutie
Also the hairy and downy woodpeckers.

Yellow finches sporting vivid coats
Feasting on thistle seed in the feeder
Those darn blackbirds are hoggish blokes
I’ll send them off with my old repeater.

My two spaniels and I walk and admire
So many sights to explore around here
Crayfish chimneys dot the ditches of mire
What do they live on deep down in there?

Thank you for your provisions, Lord,
The natural ambiance offers such beauty
My rake and hoe await time to afford
I love the fruit of my labors and duty.

Dear One, You’ve truly blessed my path,
With one very pleasant enchanted day
Top of the morning to you and your staff
Help me comfort others that come my way.

Color of a Rainy Day

A yellow dahlia

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Color of a Rainy Day

©  Jeanne E. Webster

 

Bluish blah-like backgrounds

Droopy dented daisies

Scroungy sodden shrubs

Limp lavender larkspur

Dripping dapple dahlias

Pallid purple pansies

Orange ombre oak leaves

Brownish bearded barley

Pummeled pinkish posies

Yawning yellow yarrow

Ragged ravaged roses

Languished lanky lilies

Rabbits running reckless

Robins ripping red worms

Tawny tiptoed tree toads

Spastic squirrels squiggling

Crayfish chucking chimneys

People paddling puddles

Rainbows reflecting rays

God’s globules of glory

Shining soulful showers.

Need Washing?

NEED WASHING?

A little girl had been shopping with her mother in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout.

We all stood there under the awning, just inside the door of the Wal-Mart. We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. Always mesmerized by rainfall, I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running and splashing as carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

Her little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in. “Mom let’s run through the rain,” she said.

“What?” Mom asked.

“Let’s run through the rain!” she repeated.

“No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,”

This child waited a minute and repeated: “Mom, let’s run through the rain.”

“We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom said.

“No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you said this morning.” The girl tugged persistently at her mother’s arm.

“This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?”

“Don’t you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said,  ’If God can get us through this, He can get us through anything!’  

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. You couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all stood quietly. No one left.

Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what she said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child’s life. A time when innocent trust is being nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

“Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain. If God let’s us get wet, well maybe we just need washing,” Mom said. Then off they ran.

We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They got soaked. They were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. And yes… I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.

Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories…

So, don’t forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories every day. “To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

 I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.

(received through an email.  Author unknown)

Storms, Anyone?

 

 

Storms, Anyone?

©Jeanne E. Webster   

What an exciting afternoon and evening we had yesterday!  If you call tornadoes, high wind, hail, and torrential rain exciting.  Whoever is clicking the storm button for more rain can stop anytime.   At the least, the TV weather people finally presented a correct forecast:  wicked storms on the way; head for your nearest shelters!

I’ve been around a long time and have never witnessed such demonic weather systems befalling us.  Hurricanes, tornadoes, thunder storms, hail, lightning, driving rain are all common denominators.  They nip a few towns, flatten some barns, flood some streets, and knock out the power to several cities.  However, the latest events this year have a sense of outright brutal slaughter on their agenda.  The new tallies have obliterated previous stats with astounding numbers.  Winds are raging at incredible speeds, lightning strikes are firing like machine guns, tornadoes are spawning like popcorn in a hot barrel, and rain has gone viral. 

“What’s up, doc?!”   

Who knows.  Philosophies abound, from religious “doomsayers” to “save the tree-ers.”   Maybe it’s a bit of this and a bit of that?  Needless to say, I headed for the hills during the powerful climax of last night’s melee.  To be exact, I had prepared a safe place in my bathroom tub and went for it, along with my two spaniels.  My husband preferred to view the destruction from our front porch, I later found out.  Everyone has his or her times of gallantry, I guess.  This was his.  I checked him over and he’s ok.  None the worse for wear.

The weather patterns have truly changed and we all have received the wake-up call.  Next time you must face a weather crisis, run for the hills…or bathrooms, tubs, basements, closets, nearby ditches, or crawl spaces.   These “guys” are playing for blood…ours.

Rainbow Bits

 

 

Jeanne E. Webster

 

~

A little drop of rain, quite a dainty thing,

Can be a harbinger of a grand stormy fling.

Itty drops of rain, combined a million times,

Slush themselves into a cloud-bursting chime.

Tiny raindrops tap, a pitty-patter prance,

Tinkling out a soft-shoe clicky-clacky dance.

Ploppy raindrops clomp, a splatty-slitty smash,

Thunking like men in a five hundred yard dash.

 ~

Rain is thirsted after like dry on dusty dirt

Showering the earth in teeny tiny squirts.

Eager eyes anticipate the end of the day

When that glorious rainbow films its display.