I wasn’t too concerned about all the rain we’ve been getting until I noticed that the neighbors had built an ark.

I don’t think I’m on the two-by-two list. Maybe if I invite them to a barbeque?

Aquaman is now the official superhero of Colorado.

We’re all singin’ in the rain. We don’t have a choice. It’s either that or don’t sing at all.

Don’t take those comments as a complaint. Colorado has been high and dry since the passage of recreational marijuana and the onset of our longstanding drought. The latter of those has been eased considerably by our wet June.

According to the U.S. Drought Monitor, less than 1% of the state is experiencing drought. This compares to roughly 44% of the state being in drought a month ago.

According to the National Weather Service, Colorado Springs has recorded 13.79 inches of precipitation so far this spring, including 7.09 inches in June. A normal June would see 1.17 inches.

These are welcome statistics. They don’t come without consequence, however.

My colleague, photographer Christian Murdock, is originally from Seattle. He said that his webbed feet were growing back.

But Seattle rain isn’t like this rain. I was stationed in the Pacific Northwest while in the Air Force. There, it drizzles from November to February. It’s rarely real rain. Just an endless drizzle. The joke there was that we didn’t tan, we rusted.

I often worked midnight shifts as an Air Force security policeman. The local radio station would play Eddie Rabbit’s “I Love a Rainy Night” every night. I still hum that song when it rains.

Colorado rain doesn’t prepare you for rain elsewhere. I took my sons to Dodge City, Kan., for a weekend vacation some years back. We were engaged in a spirited round of mini-golf when it started to rain. The locals ran for cover. We figured since we only had four holes to go, we could finish.

Wrong.

The sky opened. It was like the scene from Caddyshack when the Bishop was having the best round of his life in a deluge. We delighted in quoting Bill Murray’s character, Carl Spackler, in assuring each other that “I don’t think the heavy stuff’s going to come down for quite a while.”

By the time we finished, the holes were full and there was a layer of water on the course’s carpeting. The locals shook their heads in disapproval at these four drenched idiots laughing uncontrollably

My worst rain memory is when a basement flood destroyed my baseball card collection. Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax, George Brett and so many more all gone. It happened 30 years ago and it’s still too soon.

But fond rain memories far outnumber the bad ones. My brothers and I used to make small boats that we raced down the gutters when the rain came. You needed quick hands when they got near the drain, though, or your boat would be swept away and you’d miss the rest of the day’s competition.

We also knew where the drains would back up. We’d splash around during cloudbursts with the water sometimes getting knee-deep. Not smart, but it was fun.

So enjoy it while those raindrops keep falling on your head. At least while they last.

I wasn’t too concerned about all the rain we’ve been getting until I noticed that the neighbors had built an ark.

I don’t think I’m on the two-by-two list. Maybe if I invite them to a barbeque?

Aquaman is now the official superhero of Colorado.

We’re all singin’ in the rain. We don’t have a choice. It’s either that or don’t sing at all.

Don’t take those comments as a complaint. Colorado has been high and dry since the passage of recreational marijuana and the onset of our longstanding drought. The latter of those has been eased considerably by our wet June.

According to the U.S. Drought Monitor, less than 1% of the state is experiencing drought. This compares to roughly 44% of the state being in drought a month ago.

According to the National Weather Service, Colorado Springs has recorded 13.79 inches of precipitation so far this spring, including 7.09 inches in June. A normal June would see 1.17 inches.

These are welcome statistics. They don’t come without consequence, however.

My colleague, photographer Christian Murdock, is originally from Seattle. He said that his webbed feet were growing back.

But Seattle rain isn’t like this rain. I was stationed in the Pacific Northwest while in the Air Force. There, it drizzles from November to February. It’s rarely real rain. Just an endless drizzle. The joke there was that we didn’t tan, we rusted.

I often worked midnight shifts as an Air Force security policeman. The local radio station would play Eddie Rabbit’s “I Love a Rainy Night” every night. I still hum that song when it rains.

Colorado rain doesn’t prepare you for rain elsewhere. I took my sons to Dodge City, Kan., for a weekend vacation some years back. We were engaged in a spirited round of mini-golf when it started to rain. The locals ran for cover. We figured since we only had four holes to go, we could finish.

Wrong.

The sky opened. It was like the scene from Caddyshack when the Bishop was having the best round of his life in a deluge. We delighted in quoting Bill Murray’s character, Carl Spackler, in assuring each other that “I don’t think the heavy stuff’s going to come down for quite a while.”

By the time we finished, the holes were full and there was a layer of water on the course’s carpeting. The locals shook their heads in disapproval at these four drenched idiots laughing uncontrollably

My worst rain memory is when a basement flood destroyed my baseball card collection. Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax, George Brett and so many more all gone. It happened 30 years ago and it’s still too soon.

But fond rain memories far outnumber the bad ones. My brothers and I used to make small boats that we raced down the gutters when the rain came. You needed quick hands when they got near the drain, though, or your boat would be swept away and you’d miss the rest of the day’s competition.

We also knew where the drains would back up. We’d splash around during cloudbursts with the water sometimes getting knee-deep. Not smart, but it was fun.

So enjoy it while those raindrops keep falling on your head. At least while they last.