As I write this in the early morning gloom, the most perfect sound of rainfall is welcoming the sunrise. Finally, the rains came our way.
I remember well our last summer of intense heat and extreme drought, as I was pregnant with my daughter. My son was not yet 2 and bursting with toddler energy. Our old house was not blessed with air conditioning, but that year, we decided to spring for a window unit for our upstairs bedroom.
My dad had equipped one of his tractor cabs with a child’s car seat, and whenever it worked for him, he would have my son ride along so I could rest.
The drought continued, high temperatures broke records and I was grateful for a wonderful dad.
This summer we’ve watched crops struggling in the dry, high heat and it brings memories.
A farm kid is raised with respect for weather, awareness beginning with such a simple thing as knowing to be quiet when the radio weather report was given. Today’s radar weather is accessible in an instant, but that wasn’t the case in my childhood.
I recall my father intently listening to the local radio station’s noon weather report at our round table, a hush falling over the kitchen so Dad could hear every word. Lord help the chatty cousin visiting for the summer who couldn’t read the room and chose the quiet moment to spin a yarn nobody really wanted to hear anyway.
I struggled to understand how the hay might not get dry enough to bale when just walking out the door brought oppressive heat. “Humidity is killing us,” Dad used to say, and even though I had no idea what that meant, we agreed it was hard to breathe.
This morning’s rain came at a critical time, as corn withered in the fields, a second crop of soybeans struggled to survive and our alfalfa grass fields are nodding off as though it is autumn.
An all-day rain would be welcomed by everyone we know. The dry season does not last forever, but there are times when 0it feels as though it will.
Wishing every reader rainy days followed by the gift of sunshine.
