My childhood spent in north Texas prepared 
me for sun-soaked days and sweaty nights,
often sleepless in hot, muggy rooms. Drought
accompanied this extreme heat. I relocated
to eastern Tennessee where moderation in 
weather was key until summer 2024.

A long arid spell gripped the hills and valleys 
with the tenacity of crabgrass. It was hot, muggy,
and miserable. It’s raining a little now. More than 
a mere drizzle, but less than a much-needed soaker
of a downpour. My lawn is yellow, brown, and green,
a patchwork seldom seen. Lush foliage in all its myriad
hues normally delights my senses.

This anomaly of dryness produced an unpleasant 
Remnant from my childhood in Texas, stickers. 
As I roamed through our garden, I spied these culprits
lurking underfoot. Poised, with evil intent, ready 
to pierce any unprotected flesh, or torment the Yorkie.
Rain is forecast for the foreseeable future.

I long for a few days of drenching gulley washers
that create temporary ponds for transient ducks. 
That welcome sight of sprouted mushrooms looking
as if fairies hid underneath could wash away the memory
of malevolent stickers. I want a toad strangler of a loud
thunderstorm to flood all evidence of tacky, pink, plastic
flamingo flocks huddled around neighbor’s mailboxes.