It's a Touchy Thing that Rain

The thunder just boomed and the rain is now coming down, again.  Darn if that rain is not a touchy thing, too little is horrible and too much proves to be right up there.  We are on the too much side of the line currently and it's an uncontrollable thorn.  Today is Memorial Day and my dad's birthday.  It should be a day of sunshine and seeding for him, finishing up getting the crops in for another year but that's a scarily long way from reality.  It should be a day of sunshine and camping and lake fun for many others, but I have a feeling it's more of a playing cards in the camper kind of day.

 

The rain.  It's a touchy thing. 

 

And it's uncontrollable. 

 

But if there's one thing I know about my dad, even if quite literally it is raining on his parade, he will continue to kick ass.  Because it's just what he does.  He is a pusher and it was instilled in us from early on to simply do it, to make it work, and figure it out.  Like the time an entire bin of oats had turned to maggots in the barn.  Yeah that time.  When Brother and I were not very old and were cleaning the barn and opened the lid to find maggots, millions of maggots and went running to the shop.  Sure we could get Dad to take care of it for us.  Only to be met with, "There's the tractor.  Go dump in it in the pit." 

 

Oh. 

 

Make it work and figure it out.  Even if it's gross and hard. 

 

So I hope my dad is eating a piece of cake right now with chocolate frosting.  Because it's his birthday.  And even though it's raining again, the sun will shine eventually.  It always does.  Dad-o lesson learned. 

 

 

I mean for goodness sakes, he taught himself to swim this winter after spending the last 55 years with his head only above water.  And he plays tennis, which if you would have told me twenty years go that my dad would be playing tennis on a March day down in Arizona, I would have told you when pigs fly but he does and that's pretty cool.