Drought Conditions.

A couple of weeks back, we covered some of this, but I thought I'd maybe hit the high points for those of you just tuning in: We are officially recovered from D-4 drought, at least for now. We remain in a fairly suggestively-shaped drought here in the mid-southeast, but we're in D-3 now, which means we're Extreme rather than Exceptional. If we get another six weeks of rain, why then, we can move back down into the comfortingly-named Severe Drought category. Still, friends, no one but no one could complain about what we've had the last couple of weeks. Real rain. Frequent rain. Maybe, maybe more clouds than sun, which in and of itself feels bizarre and otherworldy. Driving home at dusk last night, rain just picking up in earnest, headlights in my face all the way back down 70, all I could see was how green all the planted-in hay and tobacco fields are looking, how green the yards are. Trees are just starting to bud and leaf out now in a kind of serious, dedicated way, and so we're getting our annual primer in all the shades of just that one corner of the color wheel. In some ways I like these couple of weeks as much as I like some of fall. I'll take it all back in October, I promise, or next week when the azaleas pop, but for now: green, green, green.

That storm last night delivered unto us one crisp inch of rain, and it's already at it again out there today: some spotty showers and drizzle with heavy showers and storms in the offing, apparently, for this evening and overnight. Some of the fancies are wanting another half-inch, three-quarters, maybe — hold one eye closed and get a little loose with the various math and some of them want to give us another inch in total before lunch tomorrow. If we're not careful, we might start filling the lakes back up. If we're not careful, we're going to find ourselves in a weather pattern that starts to make some kind of sense.

It's a slow, strange Saturday. I'm plotting the death of the beagles across the street, watching a pair of what I think are Tufted Titmice move into our bluebird house in the back yard, and trying decide whether or not now, at lunchtime, it may finally be time to get dressed and start the day. I had Nilla Wafers for breakfast. That and a pot of coffee. All this rain is making me slothful. I'm too damn inert to go across the street and commit some excellent crime. I am probably going to have to find a way to break out of some of this. Revise the novel. Start a new one. Something. Until then, I'm going to keep an eye on the greening yard, on the forsythia dropping its yellow flowers in favor of some leaves. The tulips are up. Those damn dogs are barking. Six of one. It's raining.