Editorial

Hear Ye, Hear Ye: Chesapeake Country Resolution

We’ve taken matters into our own hands after getting inspired on Sunday evening at Calvert County Marine Museum by Bob Dylan, who wrote the song “Rainy Day Women # 12 and 35.”

Whereas, the Weather Gods Up There have seen fit to torment us non-stop in 2003ad;

Whereas, winter brought us a Hundred-Year Blizzard leaving piles that may not melt fully until August;

Whereas, storms every weekend recently have drowned spring games and relegated Chesapeake Country men to non-stop ‘honey-do’ chores while boats sit on blocks while Weber grills grow mold in the shed;

Whereas, ducks now swim in yards and some people we know are growing webbed feet;

Whereas, our patios are sprouting mangrove bushes and we risk losing our children into sucking mudholes on the way to their school busses;

Whereas, rumors persist that Annapolis may be annexed by the Amazon Rain Forest;

Whereas, puny tomato and pepper plants yearn to produce the makings of salsa for summer parties;

Whereas, groundwater levels rose in April and all the wells used by the U.S. Geological Survey to monitor climatic conditions are at normal to above normal levels, while at this time last year, all but one well was below normal levels and many set monthly record lows;

And whereas, Baysiders stand poised to leap into wild and crazy summer fun;

Be it therefore resolved that the Weather Gods Up There must immediately cease and desist your cruel behavior; that you must limit rains to Tuesday thru Thursday between the hours of 11pm and 4am; and that you must bottle up those tornadoes and big-whoof storms. (Have you considered an anger management course?)

And be it further resolved that should you rain on any more of our picnics, particularly those celebrating Memorial Day, the Fourth of July or summer birthdays, that we denizens of Chesapeake Bay will renounce our loyalty and vacate to Southern California, where we know from song and proverb that It Never Rains — unless Marylanders visit. (While you’re raining there, we’ll sneak back home.)