The Blessing of Rain

After such an intensely snowy winter and spring thaw, it seemed the ground would be saturated forever. Thankfully we had all that early moisture because starting in May, the rains ceased in our area. Days and days of hot, sunny, July-like weather have made planting difficult—sometimes unbearable when partnered with the mosquitoes. It wasn’t long before our garden irrigation system were running all day, as much as it could just to keep young plants alive.

In the Northwoods, we’re accustomed to afternoon showers and rainy days, which keep the sandy soils moist. I remember drizzly days as a kid sitting on the sun porch reading books, but those drizzly days don’t seem to come like they used to. In La Nina years, when the Pacific Ocean is cooler like last summer, raucous storms rake through the region. Hail, winds, lightening juxtapose with brilliant sun. There’s moisture, but it comes at a chaotic price.

This year, we’re back to El Nino, when the Pacific Ocean runs hot, there are fewer storms for our region, but that also means less rain overall. We’ve certainly been experiencing that way of weather this year already. What used to be systems that delivered water regularly to the Northwoods, where we hardly had to water the garden, now seems to be angry storms or nothing.

The yard dried up to brown, even the weeds in the garden where we weren’t irrigating were limp and withered. Fire dangers were frightfully high, and the Canadian wildfire smoke added insult to injury as we tried to hold it all together at the farm.

Then, relief finally arrived yesterday. Not a raging storm, not wild winds, just plain old gentle, soaking rain. I’d forgotten how beautiful and peaceful rain could be.

It was Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day, and I was out front chatting with Bill, one of our members, who was picking up his weekly order of veggies, rhubarb pie, eggs, cheese, and more from the farm. We were lamenting the severity of the drought and how much everyone needed rain.

“Do you know any rain dances?” I asked.

“Well, I could try.” He started a little shuffle dance, clicking his fingers. We chuckled and I tried it too because, why not, I was up for trying anything if it would help! Ironically, a couple minutes later a gentle south wind kicked up and droplets started splatting on the canopy overhead. We laughed and did a bit more of our impromptu shuffles as the drops came faster.

The rest of the crew was in the garden, pulling out those wilting weeds, when the rain hit. They all hollered for joy too, working right through it and getting thoroughly soaked. A steamy, doldrum break in the weather came next, followed by more misty rain later in the afternoon. It wasn’t that much, but it was a start, and every drop was welcome. The gentleness of it meant that the moisture would soak into the parched soil, rather than bead up and run off.

This morning, I awoke to the sound of rain on the skylight, a nice gentle rain pattering down and dripping off the eaves. No thunder or lightening, no high winds, just nice rain. Such a welcome sound! It felt like such a blessing as it pitter-pattered down throughout the morning as little shower clouds passed over on their way north.

I’ve heard it said that humanity exists because of six inches of topsoil and the fact that it rains. We were certainly feeling the pinch in the “the fact that it rains” department, and I hope that the dry spell will take a back seat for a while. Hopefully, going forward, enough rain will arrive at the right times to keep the gardens, orchard, and berries happy.

I suspect that, through today and tomorrow, we’ll be able to watch the farm green up and thrive. We might even be able to see the grass grow out in the pasture! I wouldn’t mind a few more rainy days coming up this summer, as we enjoy the blessing of the refreshing water.

The systems on the radar were patchy, but I hope that the rains reached you this week as well. Feel free to try the little shuffle dance if it helps! See you down on the farm sometime.