Monday, April 5, 2010


“Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay”

I hadn’t heard that song in, well, let’s just say it’s been a long, long time. I was trying to get some yard work done before the rainstorm hit. The clouds were dark and foreboding and the wind was gusting enough to yank the umbrella out of its stand and throw it about fifteen feet from the patio table.

And yet, there they were. A couple of 8-10-year-olds, probably brother and sister, holding hands, skipping down the sidewalk, singing “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah.”

I’m not sure if they were even aware of the impending storm. But if they were, they were obviously more concerned with Mr. Bluebird on their shoulders and merely having a wonderful day than they were with the potential of getting wet.

And suddenly, my arms didn’t seem to feel so achy from the raking. My worry about getting it all done before the rain came didn’t seem so pressing. And I felt, surprisingly, refreshed.

Oh yeah, and I found myself singing a wonderful little ditty in the face of a storm.

“Plenty of sunshine headin’ my way,

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay.”

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