Look Down My Rain Barrel.

 Look Down My Rain Barrel.

 

Mom used to sing some songs when we were little that must have been popular when she was a child. The title to this blog this evening comes from one of those songs. It also mentioned sliding down the cellar door, but since neither the rain barrel nor the cellar door exists around this place, will just tell you that we have received a wonderful blessing of slow, steady rain for the past two days. Not sure if it is just that all the dust has been washed off the grass or if the grass is growing, but the east side lot is now green instead of just brown. Thank God for the rain!

 

It has been a quiet day—reading, cooking some more chicken for us (yes, dogs and old woman both), and just messing around with one short run of the vacuum to follow the muddy paws around. Don’t mind in the least! Took eggs across the street to the neighbors and spoke briefly to Patty around 5:30, but otherwise just have not even had a conversation with anyone other than these dogs. Is it a conversation if one side only says, “Arooff”?

 

Have not looked online other than to check my email. Downloaded a few e-books on my Kindle app, but did not go looking for anything that might get my dander up. Thought about going up to early vote between showers, but only got my long pants on to find the rain pouring down again, so maybe one day this week. Or not. Other than voting for Tim Short for mayor and those propositions the Texas government has on the ballot, not much else matters.

 

The hens left nine eggs in the nests today. Pretty good return for all the wheat, sunflower seeds, and lay crumble (mash). Have a feeling all the pullets are laying now, but the older hens may soon stop laying at all or rather sporadically. They usually stop laying when they molt, but right now only one is molting. She really looks funny with all those little spikey quills on her neck. Looking in the bottom of the front coop, it looks almost as if something got ahold of a black hen and took all her feathers off! They may be molting more than the old woman realizes.

 

Nothing much to say tonight except that we can praise God for this good rain. Not sure just how much we have received so far, but anything is better than what it was before the rain began. He gives us what we need, but in His time. Thinking of the doxology that was sung in Grandmother Pollard’s Methodist church:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

 

One Wikipedia entry said that if viewed as praise to God, 80% of the Psalms are a type of doxology. Glad to think about that. The Psalms read when we are less than happy can rearrange our thoughts and moods.

 

Let us rejoice in His love as we thank Him for the many blessings.

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.