When I was younger I was charged with mowing my parents lawn every week. In Michigan, at times during the summer it can often rain for days on end. A few times when it had been raining for four or five days the lawn would grow higher than my father liked. This of course was my fault, for not mowing the lawn in the rain.
And the lecture would likely follow during the rain as well. “Right, wrong, or in different” he used to like to say, which was usually the sign that logic had either gone out the window or one of us would be over analyzing to further analogize the conversation’s points to our advantage. Seven years later, and a few thousand miles away I still mow my own lawn. They say it rains a lot in Seattle. And while I still feel this is a stereotype used to keep outsiders away, I do find myself having to mow the lawn after a fresh rain. But I have found that when your lawn has patches of dirt in it like ours, the water works to my advantage keeping the dust down. For the first time today I’ve come in from mowing, not covered in a dusty dirty face. No shower; no Netty Pot needed. I think I will from now on go out of my way to embrace the rain, immediately cutting back all it has helped to grow.