It was a rainy Saturday morning in the thicket where live my Uncle Mort and Aunt Maude.
They got up early to go outside, eager to “feel” the soaking of rain on their yard’s crusty soil, and to thank The Almighty for ending a dry spell when there’d been nary a drop of rain for more than two months. Getting nightgowns soaked felt great.
His voice on the phone provided the value he placed on rain, but …