Rainy, Rainy Day

Rainy, rainy day.

It was shining as I kissed Sam good bye this morning and headed out into the day. The sun was warm, sparkling, even, as I left the house. But then, sprinkle, sprinkle, followed by kerthunk, kerthunk of the windscreen wipers and it had turned grey even before I'd go to meeting my sister at lunch. I wanted to say, as I gazed skywards, Okay, as they used to say, enough already, Hughie. But, grimace, drought and all, dare I speak those words? You know, the farmers need it. The farmers? THE farmers? Why are we so concerned about the farmers? I ask you? I should be more concerned about my garden? But, I'm more concerned about the once green vista of the Garden State, which seems to have vanished, pretty much, in the more recent years. Remember when all of Melbourne's plentiful parks (you know, the ones that are left which haven't had yet another sports arena built on them) used to radiate with verdant hues? You know, if it looks pretty, that's what we're all concerned about, isn't it? That's why I'm not saying, enough already. So, yay for rain! Yay! Yay! Where's my Vuvuzela? Gritted teeth. Fists ready to roll into balls and shake sky-wards, as I run for the car.