Rain On The 855!

I've discovered a use for potholes!

We had prayed.
We had compared notes, to the tune of 10ths of an inch.
We had scanned the sky, with and without sunglasses, to see which way looked more hopeful.

We had not - entirely! - given up hope.

On Friday we were rewarded and teased a little bit:

The heavens opened and a deluge thundered down for a few holding-your-breath minutes. The smell around a light summer rain is indescribable.

I had to head out from the house, south on the 855. The Good Rancher's place is about one mile north of where the Special Areas road care ends and the County of Stettler road care begins. On our little stretch of 855, the County of Stettler road care also continues north past the G.R.'s driveway for about 8 kilometres.

I use the term "care" rather lightly, I know.

Complaining about the atrocity of that road is a topic that ranks up there with weather, cattle prices, canola, and the NDP government.

I am learning to deke and swerve and brace myself to dodge the worst of all potholes and pitfalls associated with any or all of the above.

On Friday, avoiding one of them was easier. The potholes were filled with precious rain, glimmering in the glow of the watery sun. Our own hyperbolic rain gauges!

Panoramic shot of a straight stretch of road. However, it feels like we're negotiating

a steep curve while navigating the potholes!

 As chance would have it, I was wearing my Muck Boots ...

Wouldn't you have done the same?!

Admittedly, my inherited vehicle has upwards of 400,000 kms so this road owes it nothing. That Yukon can shake, rattle and roll over any terrain! My fractured tailbone - if I brace myself just right, it's not affected too much either by the jarring, boneshaking hits if I happen to land in one of these road traps.

And honestly, all I have to do is remind myself of how bad the roads used to be in India on the drive from Coonoor to Bangalore. They have upgraded them since my childhood; but if I hearken back to those days where there were two parents, six kids and a black cocker spaniel in a 1957 Vanguard, this 855 road seems almost acceptable!

But this is about rain. We prayed for it and wished for it. And this morning the outside seems like a kinder, gentler place.

So this Sunday morning I remind myself that "This is the day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it!"

I'll be going now, heading to church, down that old 855 which is becoming as familiar to me as the lines in my palm, and almost as dear.