The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Anatomy of rain on a metal roof. I’ve had two styles of metal roof while living in the Hill Country. My first roof was screw-down panels, a fairly typical old style roof. It was replaced recently by a standing seam roof with no exposed screws. Falling rain sounds essentially the same on both styles, a lovely patter of falling water on tin. The difference slips in when the rain is soft and the water gathers on the roof before sliding to the ground.

I’m in a tiny, personal groove. I cleaned my gutters yesterday, and put plants in the ground. It rained last night, right on cue. My rain barrels are full, and the new plants got a good soaking. More rain is promised, and as a bonus, it’s cool outside. For the plant fans, the new additions are Gregg’s Mist Flower, Catmint Walkers Low, and Upright Rosemary. All have proven to do well in my soil so I decided to add a few more.

I lost a shovel last month which seems a hard thing to do until you lose the shovel and it’s lost and impossible to find. I have no idea what went into the losing of the shovel. We had it. Then we didn’t. I looked everywhere. High and low. It was nowhere to be found. I was perplexed. In the past I would have blamed the kids, and even though my son uses my tools he usually knows where he’s put them. In the case of the shovel, he had no idea where it had gone.

Yesterday was a day where all the tumblers fell into place, and I unlocked a little joy. I found a letter I needed in my junk email. The city approved my replat. I scheduled my new HVAC service. I found a guy to remove my brush pile, which is taller than me and has more than brush in it, and looked scary to burn. And I watched a group of starlings bathe in my bird bath. To top it all off I went to bed at 9:15 last night and didn’t wake up until 5:30 this morning, which counts as a full night of sleep in my book.