Wet & wild

Much like every night about that time, I got ready to take Lucy for a walk around 7:00. It was cloudy, but I checked the weather and the radar was clear. And, besides, it's practically been months since we had any decent amount of rain. Tonight would likely be no different.

So we headed out for Fort Ward, an old Civil War site that is now a park, about a mile from our house. On the way there, the air was really still. It was humid. I was hot. I was thinking about all the reasons why I'm ready for summer to be over, and telling myself it would not be so horribly bad if a nice little sprinkle cooled everything off and brought the breeze back.

We walked a lap around the park and then I took Lucy over to a big grassy area where I can let her off the leash and relinquish some of that unwavering energy by throwing a stick. Just as she set out on her first sprint, it started to sprinkle.

It started to rain.

It started to pour.

At that point, there were three options. I could find a shed or shelter to wait it out, run the mile home and just get it over with already, or embrace it. Those of you who know me well will be surprised that I just said, "forget it," chose option three, and we walked home in the pouring rain.

I shared a strange camaraderie with all of the other joggers and dog-walkers who had gotten stuck in this sudden summer storm. Just when I didn't think the raindrops could get any bigger, they did, so I looked up at the sky, felt God giving me a big "well, you said you wanted rain..." speech, and laughed all the way home. The minute we crossed onto our street, the rain stopped. Talk about timing.

Lucy and I would not be any wetter if you threw us in a swimming pool. But it was kind of fun!