Showing posts with label puddles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label puddles. Show all posts

Friday, January 20, 2012

Puddles Just Waiting To Be Jumped In

Short post today. I was going to dig into rhyme a bit more but then it started raining. Granted, the connection may not be evident at first glance. But stay with me and you, too, will soon be able to follow my convoluted logic.

The Sacramento area is abysmally short of rain now already halfway through our "rainy season" that generally runs from middle-ish October to middle-ish April. In fact, some estimates show we are about 20 percent of average and that may be generous. Since December 1 we have had less than one tenth of an inch of rain when we should have had over four inches by this time on average. And where five feet of snow should have fallen already in the High Sierra, there is virtually bare dirt.

That is, until today, although so far it doesn't appear to be adding much to our total, it has generated lots of excitement among weather prognosticators. Really, it's actually more like a very light but steady drizzle and hardly enough to get any water running in the gutters at that.

But despite the fact it's no where close to a storm, yet, the rain is totally the reason my thinking shifted from "rhyme" to "run" as the subject of my post. You see, a rain like today is perfect for a run---just enough to wet things down a bit and create a few puddles to jump in but not enough to be a bother.

Therein lies the fun. Plain and simple, puddles bring out the kid in me. Going splat in the first one may wrinkle your nose up a bit. But after that, every puddle is just waiting, nay begging, to be jumped in. Who cares if shoes get wet and mud splatters up to your knees?

OK. That's it. That's my post for today. Here's to puddle jumping, in celebration of all puddles past and all those yet to come---even the piddly ones. Why, I'm even beginning to feel a short rhyme coming on, with a little syncopation to boot....

Rain
By Bill Kirk

Drip. Drip. Patter, pit.
Little drops of rain that hit
My umbrella. Under it,
I’m a perfect fit.