It’s June. In the Pacific Northwest, we call it “June-uary.” After a brief teaser of summer heat in May, our weather loses confidence and reverts back to winter. After a full on blast of fog, haze, or whatever on Fourth of July (Fireworks disappear up into pea soup and gently glow.) summer begins. For now, it’s 50°F (10℃) and the rain is relentless.
The sheep don’t want to go to the front yard. The hens don’t want to go out for Garden Party. The ducks want to go out in the rain and dig holes in the lawn, but a funky fence happened overnight and most of the good digging ground is beyond it. Cubicle and I want to eat grass seed, but that’s all behind the fence, too. I can hear Princess whining in the living room. She wanted to come out and she popped out the kitchen door for a little while before she whined to go back in. Mrs. Mallard has come and gone for her daily ration of corn. She’s on a nest and doesn’t hang out here very long these days.
The Farm Manager can’t help herself, so instead of letting the sheep get bored and naughty, she sets up the aviary for indoor recess once again. She feeds the cats and locks them up in Cat Jail. Then she blocks the barn door so the sheep can’t get in there and eat chicken food. It’s the worst barn door ever because the hens can sneak underneath, but geese are too tall to go in! Fine. We didn’t want to go in there, anyway. The sheep think they’re getting away with something and after checking the barn and finding the door is blocked, they maraud the aviary, scattering the fools who choose to hang out there. Indoor recess is the worst. June-uary is the worst.
That was your Random Rain Report for June.
Rainspecked but still honking, Norman