How green it is

Olivia Fowler

Olivia Fowler

On The Way

By Olivia Fowler

It’s August and our grass is green. Not the pale new shoots of spring, but the emerald green seen in the Land of Oz and Ireland. I don’t believe we’ve ever seen that before at this time of year.

We hardly know how to act. In the early morning we go out onto the front porch with coffee. The lantana bush is covered with zebra swallowtails and hummingbirds.

An inspection of the pots of herbs shows water is standing about half an inch deep on top of the soil. In order to keep the roots from rotting, the excess water must be drained off. The drained water sits in a puddle on top of the ground.

All the birds look fat. Should the ground ever dry out a little, it might be possible to work in the flower beds.

Some things love the extra rainfall we’ve experienced. We’re keeping a close eye on the mosquito population and battling their young. Strangely enough, our lady bug population, the bane of my existence, has disappeared.

The fire ant population doesn’t appear to be affected in any way. I consider them the spawn of Satan anyway, and as such they must be avoided at all costs.

Last summer we went six solid weeks without a drop of rain. We were hoping we wouldn’t suffer from drought again this summer, and our wishes have clearly been granted.

Now, sure as clockwork, the sun will pop out in the morning and some outdoor task will be started. While in the midst of our labor we may feel a drop of moisture on our skin. A glance up will show us that a black cloud has suddenly covered the sky, the sun has disappeared and the rumble of thunder can be heard over Six Mile.

The temperature drops suddenly. We might make it to the front porch before a deluge of water drops from the heavens and falls steadily for at least an hour. Then the sun will abruptly reappear and the rain will stop. Within moments the sky will be a clear bright blue. It’s as though no cloud is anywhere near the area.

We may wait a few minutes and resume our outdoor task. Just as a little progress can be seen, the entire weather scenario plays out again.

The only way to get any work done outside is to simply ignore the rain and accept the fact that you will be going about your business soaked to the skin.

A word to the wise. Don’t try to pick tomatoes in your flip flops. You will regret it. The mud between the rows will suck you in like quicksand. You’ll probably never recover your flip flops, nor will your feet ever be really clean again.