I woke up this morning to the sound of rain, peaceful rain. It means that today, I won't have to water the hibiscus or the rose bushes or my fledgling little Cherokee Purple tomatoes. It means everything in the garden will get a hefty dose of lush. It means I won't mind finally getting to the housecleaning that has been on hold for, well . . . a while. I've been working long hours, so I haven't been Goin' Down to Mama's as much as I'd like or cleaning as much as I need to. Daddy's mother, who hated housework, used to call and tell me, "Honey, the dust is rolling down the hallway like tumbleweed." I'm with you, my Granny. But now the rain is doing a little housecleaning outside . . . so I won't mind staying in and addressing the tumbleweed while those "mercy drops" from that old hymn "Showers of Blessing" are falling.
P.S. When my mother's mother—Grandme—used to get aggravated at us, she'd say, "I'll bet y'all are gonna sing 'Showers of Blessing' at my funeral!" We didn't, of course. But we think about her every time we hear it.
[Image by Chance Agrella at freerangestock.com]
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