And then it rained.
Again.
Over the years I've spent far more time praying for rain than praying for it to stop, but when I think about it, in thirty years of farming I lost two crops to drought. But I lost two to hailstorms and two to floods, so it would appear that too much water has been twice as much bother as too little.
We've had several years of near-drought conditions, teetering on the edge of disaster until a timely rain or two helped the land produce a decent crop. It felt like we were playing roulette, betting all our money with each spin of the wheel. You can only do that for so long, so when we had our first hearty rain this spring, after a largely snowless winter, it was a huge relief. There was another rain a week later, with actual thunder and lightning and although I didn't hear anyone say anything out loud, there was a feeling like perhaps the drought was over and we were back to normal.
I should have known. As far as weather goes, we just don't do normal.
Years ago, I was at a meeting where a climatologist from Iowa State was sitting at my table. When he found out where I lived, he was very enthused. He said, “Do you realize that where you live, and the Ural Mountains in Siberia have the worst weather in the world?”
No, I hadn't known that, and I could have died a happy man without ever knowing.
He went on to explain that while there were places hotter and places colder, there were no other locations that got as hot and as cold as we do. Factor in how much the wind blows and the way our precipitation varies wildly from year to year...we're the winners.
Or losers, depending on your point of view.
The thing about a drought is that it feels like a catastrophe. Lawns are brown, gardens suffer, crops wilt, lake levels drop – almost everyone is affected. But getting an inch or two of rain every week has gardens flourishing and lawns lush. My wife's flowers have never looked better and we're anticipating bumper crops of strawberries and potatoes. Sunday night we sat in our pickup at the end of the driveway and watched another storm roll in from the south. It's kind of funny – people travel all the way to places like Key West in order to see an unencumbered sunset, but I've never been to a place where you can see Mother Nature's shows as clearly as you can here. I went to get my wife from the house when I saw the first wall cloud scudding downwind. She missed that one, but the next one came just as quickly, with flickers of lightning and the muted rumble of thunder following close behind. It was spectacular, but when the landscape a mile away disappeared in a grey haze it was easy to guess what was coming. We barely made it back to the house before the downpour started.
This morning the sun was shining and the birds were singing. If my feet hadn't actually squelched when I walked across the lawn, I could have convinced myself that all was well. But if I had to guess I'd say it's going to be the middle of June before the fields are fit, which is over a month later than desirable. Mortgages, college educations, retirements all hinge on stringing together two or three weeks of good weather.
And if we did get three weeks of good weather, you know what?
We'd need some rain.
Copyright 2024 Brent Olson
I love this!!