Get ready Heath, River Falls, Point A, Andalusia — its coming. Yes, rain is on the way.

How do I know — an update from the weather service, a radar image? Did I do a Native American rain dance or a mysterious yoga rain chant? (I don’t think there is such a thing, but it would be cool if there were one).

Nope. I know precipitation is coming because I spent more than an hour watering stuff. Yep, my water hose and I snaked around the yard spreading wetness and joy.

From experience, I know two things set off a cloudburst. One, as I said, is me watering everything in site. The other is the county working on my dirt road. (That happened at the end of last week and is a completely different column.)

We got what was a-little-more-than-a-sprinkle, yesterday, enough to get mud on the bottom of my car as I drove home. Now, the road is perfectly primed for a downpour.

Back to my marathon hose dragging. Oh and don’t be fooled when the display for the more expensive hose promises it will not crimp or twist. No hose exists that does not crimp, twist, and hang on every darn thing possible.

Stepping stones, hose hangs. Garden timbers around flowerbeds, hose hangs. Random rock slightly bigger than my toe, hose hangs.

And don’t forget it is a given that the nozzle attached to the end of the hose is going to come loose and spray you in the face. The cats hear me say a bad word when that happens.

Anyway, I emptied the hose reel and got busy. The potted plants scattered around the yard were inching close to the point of no return. I could almost hear sighs as I set the nozzle to shower and gave them a good bath.

Oh and in the midst of my merriment, I stirred up a nest of yellow jackets residing in the front flowerbed. They did not appreciate my soaking their home and let me know by chasing me out of said flowerbed. I got a funny look from the dog as I raced by her.

Next, I took down the ferns hanging near the swing because the hose would not reach far enough to give them a drink. I moved a couple of plants off the front porch too.

Once I finished on that side of the house, I headed to the backside, snagging and pulling the hose along. I showered the bed beside the deck, and then shot water toward my potted tomato plants.

I noticed the Beauty Bush growing out of the trunk of my date palm had wilted leaves. (When it droops, things are really dry.) I sent a stream of water into the palm and let it run down to the roots of the bush.

Then as I was about to push the hose up onto the deck to water the family of plants living there, I heard a rumble. Thunder, and to the south a dark cloud.

I started to call it quits. Then I remembered how Mother Nature likes to play with me when it comes to rain. Never fails I’ll hear thunder and know my watering woes are over only to have the rain blow right around us.

Sure enough, the sky squeezed out about 10 drops of rain before the sun returned. I kept to it giving a good drenching to every pot on the deck.

I finished, untangled the hose and put it up. I still needed to water the plants on the far side of the yard, but that required using a complex watering system of several hoses and connection points. It could wait until I cooled off.

As I sat on top of the air conditioning vent, I heard the weatherman on the television.

“River Falls, Andalusia get ready,” he said. “A wall of heavy rain is headed your way in about nine minutes.”

I think I heard Mother Nature laughing.

 

Nancy Blackmon is a former newspaper editor and a yoga teacher.