We here in the Northeast have had a rain deficit for most of the year. Nothing like the years of drought across the Plains States or Southwest, but less average rainfall for months and months creates reservoir concerns and impacts everything from maple syrup production to strawberry harvests (as reflected in store shelves and prices at the register).
We will probably be pretty well evened out on deficits by the end of the day if not sooner. Hurricane Patricia which clobbered so many for days on end is pretty much spent though we’ve seen a lot of rain starting yesterday afternoon, which I’m told we need and I’m assured those rain clouds are receding even as I type so I’ll type faster.
I’m sorta SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, a guy who gets somewhat morose and melancholy as the skies first darken and then open. Between us, I’m not sure my mood isn’t because when the clouds open it’s rain or snow (if we had a shower of thousand dollar bills I suspect my ear to ear smile would be so wide, the entire top of my head might fall off) but when it pours, I’m darker than is my wont.
I go from pressing my forehead against a cold, rain-splashed window to contemplating with some despair the Machiavellian machinations in Dodge City pausing to shake my head in disbelief at the unrest and strife in the Cradle of Civilization while remembering and reconsidering the words and meaning of Sara Teasdale and their cold-hearted, Cold Warrior extended interpretation by Ray Bradbury.