Begging for a Change in the Weather
“Samuel, you are scurrying around like cat with a rocket is lit on its tail. What’s wrong?” Samael had just entered the kitchen door with our five-year-old son Andrew on his hip. They were both soaking wet.
“It’s the gosh darn weather. Go open every window in the house. Be careful not to fall off the chair as you reach the locks.” Samuel said as he placed Andrew firmly on the floor and gave him an encouraging pat on his backsides.
“It’s a beautiful day. It calls for great weather this entire weekend.”
Now at the hall closet, Samuel was removing the picnic basket and headed toward the kitchen. “I know. That’s the problem,” he said.
“What are you doing with the picnic basket?” I was now totally puzzled.
“I’m packing for an afternoon down by the river. Promised the kids after the washed the car and the tractor we’d have us a great meal and a swim. I hope you’re still planning of doing laundry this morning and hanging it out to dry.”
“What has gotten into to you, Samuel Bilford? What is all this fuss for today?” I had just peeked out and Natty, Angus and Daphne were heads-to-toes in suds washing the station wagon and Danny was pulling up the old Ford nearby.
“We need the rain. If eleven open windows, your weekend laundry line filled, two freshly washed cars and a planned family picnic don’t make it want to rain, I think our garden is in real trouble.”
Written for Writer’s Digest Flash Fiction February Challenges: Challenge #13 Today’s prompt is to write about the weather.