Our Not So Funny Joke

Wednesday morning, Phil was up and working. It drizzled a bit, but he carried on despite the lack of dry surfaces. He made good progress, getting the beams up along the south wall. And then, about 2pm, the rains came. Or, as Phil said, "They were predicting a thunderstorm, but they didn't say anything about a monsoon." It poured.

Today Phil had an early morning meeting in town, and had arranged for the car's routine maintenance. Because the van has reached the point where a new timing belt is prudent, the repairs were expected to take much of the day, and the dealer got Phil a rental car so he could run some errands. Always a few more supplies for the building, a few ingredients I'd forgotten at the grocery. He reached home sometime after 1pm, and after checking in with the family, he unloaded the last bit of waterproofing and tools.

And then the rains came again. All afternoon. A brief cessation, and rain again in the evening. It feels like it's been like regularly, like going to work is a rain dance. It would be a joke, except it's not funny at all.

I had been lamenting my lack of planting this year: the one year I have no garden at all, the rains come in abundance. But as a friend pointed out, her plants are reeling from the extra fungal pressure. That's right. Rainfall is not drip irrigation.