On life without rain

Lookee!  Rainbows above #3 AND raindrops on the lens

You know, growing as we do here under clouds for three-quarters of the year, you think would enjoy the sun.  I do!  Those long hours of unimpeded solar rays hitting my garden’s leaves?  Heavenly.

But it’s the Severe Drought I admittedly am not terribly happy about right now.

The skies occluded, darkened and broke on Saturday evening.  I stepped on the back deck, inhaled that still-familiar yet longed-for scent of rain, and surveyed all the rain-sensitive items that I had allowed to accumulate for the month and a half of cloud-free skies.   Hurriedly I retrieved them all, throwing them higgledy-piggledy into any dry space (back porch, garage, tractor shed, goat shed, new greenhouse) and then proceeded to the garden.  I went into the garden IN THE RAIN and  turned on the hose to water the garden as usual.

Yes!  Welcome to El’s Glass Half Empty world in Drought!  Frankly, I did not care what I looked like, slowly getting damp myself while I soaked the ground of the beds.  It stopped raining not a quarter of a turn through the regular watering route.  In other words, I was right to worry.  Though the open land was rung-out-sponge damp, the ground beneath the boughs remained bone-dry and cracked.  Regular resumption of hose duties in the garden remains the standing order.  I am thankful for the electric pump, frankly.  (I bow to the pump, low bow, salaam.)

I will not recite the litany of ills that attend a drought.  But I will say it is all very strange.  And…the car is filthy.

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10 responses to “On life without rain

  1. Oh yeah, the last few weeks I could SMELL water like a bloodhound–biking home I could tell someone was sprinkling (their lawn, at 1:00 pm, in 100 degrees, ARGH) from blocks away.

    It feels very good having a couple of whole days without hose toting, I can say that. I’d feel guilty mentioning we had a bit of rain except for the fact we’re right in the middle of that HUGE red blob on your drought map, and now poor Iowa is turning red too. Still, super grateful for a little relief here, what a summer….

  2. I fear for the folks used to regular rain. We watch these things happen “elsewhere,” but I worry about our situations here. Let’s hope all of the lessons learned through history can help out. Good for you having the pump!

  3. Oh! A drought is absolutely just hell! Hoses, pumps, dust and the threat of bushfires.
    But you know what, after the drought ended here (NSW Australia), we have had two of the wettest and coolest summers on record, (and I live in a high rainfall area…..900mm of rain even in a drought year, so wet years are extraordinarily wet ) which are also something ELSE to deal with. A kind of damp rot spreads to everything. I’m wondering what kind of summer we’ll have….they say the dry is back!

    Good luck with the rest of your season.

  4. Sounds familiar; we cooked for 6 weeks with under 1/2″ here during June/July. The maddening part was that on several occasions, thunderstorms dropped over 1″ in single gushing downpours within eye and ear shot of my plot – while not a drop fell on me.

  5. Jocelyn Sciortino

    This being my first year on our farm and the first year for our garden, I am kicking myself for not listening to that inner voice that suggested to me we would need to irrigate.My dear husband said that we shouldn’t need to irrigate here in MO. i hate being right about bad stuff……..

  6. Here in the Hudson Valley we’re also having a crappily dry season. What’s most annoying is that in the previous years I was sloshing around in my garden in knee-high much boots lamenting the pitiful LACK of dry (so much so that I named my blog THE MUDDY KITCHEN).

    If only you could amortize the rainfall over, say, a ten year period. We’d all be good.

  7. Instinct. It tells you, “pick up the hose and water anyway.” And so you do. Logic would have kept you inside, considering possibilities and the pros and cons. The self-sustained life demands a level of intelligence that goes beyond textbook knowledge. It must act like a sudden storm. Rushing to pick up the tools and toys. And if all is well after all, when the worse was expected, then we go with the mood of the moment… and much gratitude in the mix. You convey all of this so well.

  8. Pingback: Weekend Highlights – Noteworthy Articles by Fellow Bloggers – August 11, 2012 « Granny's Parlour

  9. Pingback: Weekend Highlights – Noteworthy Articles by Fellow Bloggers – August 11, 2012 | Canning Jars Blog

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