On a farm, it’s often difficult to find the perfect balance. After our snowy April, May waltzed in with an overabundance of heat and humidity. The natural cycle is a cool and moist spring followed by gradually warming weather. This way the onions, leafy greens, peas, and cole crops (cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts) can get a strong start. After more than two weeks of 90 degree highs, irrigating crops that should never need irrigating that early, and trying to get everything planted in miserable conditions, we were getting fairly desperate.
After just barely getting the tomatoes in, we scraped ourselves out of the farm and ate a late dinner. This was the first day with a chance of rain. 50% chance of rain, to be exact. It sounds promising, unless you consider that there is also a 50% chance of no rain. However, better than our previous week of 0% chance of rain. I stayed awake, hoping for a reprieve. 8pm came and went, bed would have been nice around that time. 9pm and I found myself reading some depressing news to pass the time. The air was calm and sticky with nearly unbearable humidity. It was past 10 and I found myself journaling some angst-ridden farmer rant. At about that time I heard it begin.
When you need rain desperately, the sound is so delicate you almost hold your breath, hoping that it doesn’t taper off. As the minutes passed, the gentle patter of water became comfortingly constant. At that point I went outside to feel the soft drops of rain on my skin.
Moments like those are where you find peace as a farmer.
Roosterhaven 