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.