Blame it on the rain

Grandpa is so confusing!

Track practice was cancelled most of this week because of the rain, so yesterday I went over to my friend Sophie’s house to wait for my Dad.  And maybe I was a bit grumpy. But can you blame me? The only kilometers I’d tracked lately were on Mom’s beat-up treadmill.

Sophie’s Mom tried to cheer me up. She set a plate of home made cookies in front of me and smiled. “Well, at least the farmers will be happy,” she said, pointing to the kitchen window that was streaked with water.

I hadn’t thought of that. Last year Grandpa complained a lot about the weather – too much heat will dry the crops out and stunt their growth, he said. I knew all about that. The city sometimes regulates our water during peak summer hours, which means Mom has to be strategic about when she waters her vegetable and flower gardens.

So last night, I called Grandpa. I opened my bedroom window and held the phone up to the air. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of rain,” I practically shouted over the wind. My arm was wet all the way up my wrist.

“I hear it,” Grandpa said, but he didn’t sound happy at all.

“Isn’t that good for your canola?”

Turns out, it may not be. Grandpa says he’s not growing rice, and too much rain can rot the crop, and if the seeds haven’t had a chance to germinate, they may not even sprout at all this year!

Yeesh. Now I know what people talk about when they say farmers are never happy about the weather.

Hey, I gotta jet. I’m pretty sure I see the sun poking from behind the clouds. I’m going to get my run in before the forecasted thundershower hits.

- Chase Superman Duffy