My only friend, the end
It is pretty much leaving on schedule, I believe, and it’s about time. My sons wear heavy clothes for a day and then throw them in the laundry, despite my pleas not to. It takes a week to dry and that’s with the assistance of a pot belly stove; otherwise they mold just like the white comforter did.
It’s gotten colder and it has been rainy and/or foggy for three straight weeks. Loud thunderstorms, light drizzles, nothing but wet weather. the ground became saturated at least a week ago — there was nowhere for the water to go.
The only thing I can think of that remotely comes close to anything I have experienced like this was the DC rainfall of June — what was it — 2008 or so. The basement in our house remained dry while all the other homeowners in our neighborhood employed buckets. My van — just before it was stolen — flooded. But at least that time there was occasional sunlight.
Maybe the end of monsoon comes with a poetry blessing as well. Scott Reid — @apwpoet — apparently read my post on Monsoon Withdrawal and came up with this tweet/haiku:
Shooting rifle into sky / – hole big enough / to empty the clouds.
Thanks man! I was touched.