Today, in the car, I was grooving to the Weathergirls ripping into “It’s Raining Men.”
It’s raining many things here on the east coast—sideways, gently, torrentially—but it isn’t raining men. Mr. C would call this atmosphere “slimr,” which is Icelandic for wet, wet, miserable weather.
I have my umbrella (from Liberty of London), though I didn’t think to bring my boots (Le Chameau). But even though I’m only half equipped for the watery day, my two youngest children are literally singing and dancing by the pool, delighted for the soaking.
It’s raining many things here on the east coast—sideways, gently, torrentially—but it isn’t raining men. Mr. C would call this atmosphere “slimr,” which is Icelandic for wet, wet, miserable weather.
I have my umbrella (from Liberty of London), though I didn’t think to bring my boots (Le Chameau). But even though I’m only half equipped for the watery day, my two youngest children are literally singing and dancing by the pool, delighted for the soaking.
There has been some seriously insane rain lately. Ugh!
ReplyDeleteAnd here on the Wet Coast we haven't seen rain for weeks and weeks. . . And our forests truly need it and the Fraser River sockeye will have huge problems if the temps don't drop soon (the river water is now just over 20, not good for the returning salmon, not good at all).
ReplyDeleteI think I'd be almost as happy as your children to splash in a rain puddle soon, altho' I know very well that I'll have more rain than I want by the middle of November. . .