Puddle-di-doo

I never used to mind the rain. I grew up in a desert.  I remember the rain in the sandhills.  It was never rude like the rain down here in the boot.  It would always announce it's arrival with soft thunder and rolling clouds, giving you ample time to find a dry haven. 

 The rain in the sandhills was dancing rain.  The kind of rain that didn't drench you all at once, but made you want to get drenched.  

This southern rain is wet and rude and wears out its welcome. 

But it does leave some fantastic puddles!

My boys and the boat they made