“It’s been raining for ten whole days!” Daddy says when he gets home and comes in the front door.
Nancy runs to meet Daddy. She’s been running around in the house saying, "No!” about everything like she always does. Mommy and Daddy call her “Negative Nancy” because she’s always saying no.
Mommy is going to have another baby, so she’s tired and we’re supposed to be good. We live in Wheaton, Illinois, now. I’m in Mrs. Lane’s third grade class, but I’m not going to school because it’s spring vacation. And it’s raining.
“I guess I can’t work on the yard today!” Daddy says.
Our new house has a big picture window in the living-room. I look out and try to see our front yard, but it looks like Girl Lake. That’s the lake at Grandma and Grandpa Wallace’s cottage.
This lake covers our driveway and Kenny Kemp’s front yard, too. Kenny lives next door. He’s only in second grade. The rain just keeps falling and making circles on the lake outside.
I can’t go outside in the rain except if I put on my raincoat and rubber boots.
We have a stoop outside the back door. I go to the back door that’s in the laundry room next to the kitchen, and I look out the storm door window. All around our back yard, I can see the fence Daddy made out of posts, and boards that he painted white, and the red fences people put out in their fields to stops snow drifts. (Mommy told me that’s what those fences usually are for.)
I remember the dump truck that poured black dirt in our back yard in the summer before I went to third grade. Daddy shoveled that dirt all over in our back yard and made it all smooth and level. He put little wood stakes at the corners and tied string between them to make sure. And then for a long time we couldn’t walk where he planted the grass seed. He watered it with a sprinkler until it got real green and thick.
Now our grass and sandbox and swings and the apple tree Daddy planted are all wet, but they’re not very shiny because it’s still cloudy out.
I can’t see Kenny Kemp’s grass because his back yard looks like it’s a lake, too. On the other side of our back yard, at Ethel and Bill’s, it looks like the Maumee River near where Grandma Griffin lives. (Grandma Griffin is Mommy’s mother.) Marge and Jim’s yard behind ours looks like a lake, too.
Kenny Kemp’s daddy and Jim and Bill don’t have fences around their yards. And I don’t think they put more dirt in their yards to make them level or planted new grass. My daddy did, and that made our yard into a big island.
I’m glad. We don’t know when it is going to stop raining.
Observations on the subjects of friends, family, country, cultures and nature.