It rained today. As often happens, the storm coincided with rush hour. A colleague wished me luck as I left the office since it’s a well known fact that people in Atlanta don’t know how to drive in rain, or snow, or ice, or at night, or any time except daytime as long as the sun is bright and traffic light.
Other than the obvious road hazards, I don’t mind rain. I’m an avid gardener, and even though I am not actively gardening, I think of water soaking the ground and I know we’re putting in reserves for next summer, when all the hand-wringing in the world won’t make it rain.
I’m not crazy about the old adage “raining cats and dogs”. I’m a visual person and this is not a pretty picture. It doesn’t make sense. Who decided domesticated pets best describe heavy rainfall? Wouldn’t it be more descriptive to evoke elephants and hippos? Couldn’t we could just say, “Wow! It sure is raining.”?
I remember the first time I heard “It’s Raining Men”. I loved it immediately. It is a big song, sung by big women, with big voices and even bigger personalities. The song skidded in on the last lap of the disco era and hearing it today reminds me why we all loved disco; even those of us who won’t admit it.
On Monday, it rained birds in Arkansas. On Tuesday, it rained birds in Louisiana, and today Sweden reported the same. Some scientists are explaining the deaths by speculating that large flocks, alarmed by New Year’s Eve fireworks, might have flown into each other.
Call me cynical, but I don’t think so.
© Copyright 2007-2011 Stacye Carroll All Rights Reserved
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