Rain rain rain rain rain.
Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.
It’s raining again. The roads are closed again. Fields all over town are turning back into ponds.
I’d really like it to stop raining. But going outside and shaking my fist at the sky is not going to do anything. Nobody is going to hear me but the chickens, who already think I’m a little silly for chatting with them and calling them “duckies”. (Their little fenced in home behind our house is still solidly dry land, but the rain-pond forming in the low part of the yard is fast approaching…)
So, rather than shaking my head, worrying, and fighting with the weather (which amounts to nothing more than fighting with myself), I’ve got a new strategy: love the rain. It’s going to rain whether I like it or not, so I might as well like it. The beautiful silver sheets of it reflecting on the windows, the stillness of the house, the warmth of a pleasant morning spent inside. There’s plenty to do: updating our farm finances, writing recipes and other tidbits for our CSA zine, catching up on email, getting our crop and greenhouse record-keeping system up to date. There’s a wheelbarrow full of tools that still needs sorting in the barn.
The fields are going to dry out. We’re going to plant when we plant. The season is going to unfold in its own way – rain now, and I don’t get to decide what next. What I do get to decide is how to make the best use of this rainy day. A pot of tea, some good music, and time to do all those important things that the warmth and sunshine and workable ground will not allow me to do later.
It’s wet and grey and March-blustery out today. Later, I’ll put on boots and feed the chickens in the rain. What comforts me is that I’d pick this – rain worries, wet and muddy chores, and weather you can’t control – over any other job, any day, hands down, no question.
Rain rain rain rain rain. Even so, being a farmer is still pretty great.