“I know to you, it may sound strange, but I wish it would rain.
Oh, how I wish that it would rain.
Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah”
The Temptations

It’s been weeks since we’ve had anything that’s amounted to anything. Stretches of grass by the house and driveway have gone pale tan. Parched blades crackle underfoot. Every night, after I brush my teeth and put the dogs in their kennels, I check the 10-day forecast, and I’m nearly always encouraged by the little rain and thunderstorm icons. My spirits lift with the hopeful percentages: 50%, sometimes 60% possibility of rain two or three days out.  And for the last 6 weeks or so, I’ve awakened to evaporated promises.

I look skyward and grimly watch the clouds shrink as the day progresses. Come evening, I often see thunderclouds build to the south, and virgo ghosting far to the north. But here? Nada.

Fortunately, the permanent pastures are still holding out — better in the low areas than on the higher, drier ridges, of course. We don’t  plow or till, and the rotational grazing we use with our beef cattle is helping maintain good soil texture and moisture, but we need rain. There’s just no substitute for it.

Praying for rain.

Sylvia