Since I didn't get anyone taking me up on my offers for autographed pictures, I decided that perhaps I should seek another avenue to fame. So I have taken up rain dancing on the side.

I have heard of so-called rain makers going out from place to place and charging folks to make it rain.

While I am not certified and have had little success, I feel sure that practice makes perfect.

I still haven't figured out how to make a profit at it, but still I go on. A friend of mine once gave me some very good advice that I will share with you.

"There are only two reasons to do anything," he said. "Either you are making money or you are having fun. If you aren't doing either, you are doing the wrong thing."

The only problem was, my garden and trees needed rain, which could cost me money. That really wasn't covered under that seemingly all-encompassing advice.

So, out of a sincere sense of duty and responsibility, I donned my rain dance outfit, which happens to be a soiled pair of sneakers and my "reverential" garden clothes.

How are the clothes reverential? Why, they're "holey", of course. Since this is about gardens, I figured it would be alright to be corny.

At any rate, my outfit is enough to make even a seasoned scarecrow jealous. I had it all going on, with the exception of the hay sticking out from under the sleeves. I would have done it for effect, but it made my arms itch.

After doing a few choice cadences and hopping around a bit, I grew weary and sat in the shade awhile. The sweat dripping off my forehead was the closest I got to rain, I fear.

So even though my rain dance wasn't working, it was an effective means of exercise. But exercise doesn't pay money and it isn't very fun. But it did leave me feeling absolutely perky. Well, not really perky, but more like exercised - perky without the perk.

My vegetables, on the other hand, were not feeling so perky.

The cucumbers were wilted, the pepper leaves were down-right crinkled up and the onion tops were turning slightly brown. Some of my tomatoes were looking rather stunted, while I do have about four plants (of the eight I put out) that are looking pretty good. They were about two feet tall already and have the beginnings of little yellow blooms on them. I sure hope they are ready to bear fruit. After all of that hopping around, I could use a home grown "mater" sandwich. I didn't have time to do my rain dance this weekend, but it rained on Monday and Monday night anyway. I don't really care why it rained, as long as it did. The end result? Maybe my rain dancing days are over for a little while. Perhaps I wasn't doing things quite right before. The fact that it didn't rain until after I stopped doing my rain dance leads me to believe that perhaps I had my steps backwards.

I will be sure to let everyone know when I get my moves perfected, in case they want to invite me over for supper and try to talk me into doing my version of the "Swan Lake Scarecrow" outside their corn and peppers. It might be worth feeding me supper just for the entertainment value, you know. I can guarantee that the birds and maybe even the bugs will leave your garden with me out there hopping around. Perhaps I could make a few dollars hiring myself out as a living scarecrow.

On the other hand, the kids could become culturally enriched watching an ancient art form playing out in their back yard. Well, maybe it isn't ancient. OK, so it isn't an art form. Perhaps I will hold off for a while before I call Denise Cothren to see if she will have me over to share my moves with others.

I bet I couldn't begin to name all the parents in the county that might like to have their kids learn how to bust a move in the garden. If most kids are like I was, you have to whip them with corn stalks just to get them moving in the direction of the garden, let alone having them move voluntarily while in the garden. That could be a major coup. If I can't make money entertaining people, working as a scarecrow or teaching others to dance, maybe this dance has other merits.

You know, I could have actually perfected the drought dance. The government might want to send me in to enemy countries as an operative to dry up their gardens while making them laugh and point at the "silly American."

If I can't get hired on by the government, maybe I can get people to feed me supper to keep me from dancing. All I need is a laugh like Snidely Whiplash.

So if you see someone boogeying around your beans, just remember, Momma always told me to never dance with my mouth full.

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