I am obsessed lately with gardening. I look forward with eager anticipation to the time each evening when I can go outside, inspect my plants, and sprinkle them with life-giving water. I consider each young seedling a credit to my excellent planting and watering abilities, and I treat each infiltrating weed (mostly morning glory) as a nemesis as vile as any fought by governments or superheroes.
That being said, I resent the rainstorms. They deprive me of my precious outside time and my growth scrutiny is diminished by the mud and general ickiness following a rainstorm. Also, the dogs get ridiculously messy.
I used to adore the rain, I would anxiously look forward to every slight possibility of rain. I guess I still do appreciate the 20 degree temperature drop. Tastes change; perhaps next week I will be raving on about how rainstorms have made my life livable and how much I'm sick of weeding.