Yesterday was definitely hot. With little to no natural moisture in the soil and not much in sight, I made the trek out to the farm for a much needed watering session, waiting until just before dark to head out. On the way out I watched as the clouds built to the west, almost certain that they would build and just before dropping the much needed moisture they would blow north. This happens on such a regular bases that no matter how much rain is predicted I will still go out to water, and with temperatures in the 90’s in June I couldn’t take a chance on the rain missing the garden.
Watching the clouds build was quite a sight. Blue skies and late day sun prevailed to the east, white clouds blossoming and slowly turning gray off to the west. The air had cooled just enough that I could leave open the window and let the crisp scent of the building storm blow through the vehicle.
I’m greeted at the gate by an over excited and rapidly growing Great Pyrenees pup. The fading light intensifying the colors around his white mass of fur, causing him to stand out in stark contrast to the waist high green grass and brown dirt road.
Getting out of the vehicle I stand still and embrace the calm, cooling air. With the storm building in the distance, the air temperature has dropped and the slight breeze is a refreshing change from the heat of the day, the suns rays having lost the struggle with the turning earth and growing clouds. Inhaling deeply, I take in the scent of green grass, tangy weeds, and the mellow dry soil, all laced with the fresh smell of the far off rain. The hills surrounding the yard haloed by the retreating light.
Spraying the first few feet of each row, the water arching on to each plant, the rubber hose quickly turning slick with condensation from the cool water rushing through it. My mind and body relax with the rhythm of the work, sweeping the water back and forth over each row, savoring the flawless evening. With each thorough pass of water the ground grows dark, soaking in the moisture that doesn’t have a chance to puddle on the surface, outlining each small plant and forming small droplets on their leaves.
Tugging on the hose, as I move slowly up the row, the rubber straining along with my arms. The routine job giving my mind a chance to wander, it runs free into the clouds and I imagine drops of rain starting to fall on my shoulder and upturned face. Cool droplets slowly running down my cheeks and neck, spots of water slowly blending together on my shirt. My mind turns to study the course that my life has taken. How I never thought that the weather would have such a profound effect my daily routine. This wonderful soil under my feet has caused me to tune into the world around me on so many levels. For some I am thankful, others not so much. I love the time to think, especially about current events and recently read books. I hate the constant anxiety that weather of any form brings.
With all the plants watered, I slowly walk back down the rows, making sure that everything got enough to drink. I reluctantly push down on the hydrant’s handle and turn off the water, signifying the end of my wondering thoughts. Watching the clouds blow slowly to the north, I’m glad that I’ve come out to water since the rain will yet again not be falling over my little patch of heaven.