Rain!

As I write this week’s F-A-R-M blog, there is a gentle rain falling on our farms’ fields.  No thunder or lightning accompany this much-welcomed, much-needed shower.  The parched ground soaks this steady rainfall quickly into its surface to spread to waiting roots that have gone far too long between drinks.  It has been an odd summer; with rain a hit-or-miss phenomenon for farmers in Pennsylvania and throughout the nation.  Some farmers in regions of our country have had far too much rain, with floods drowning crops and destroying property.  Others have had no rain at all for weeks on end.  Crops died of thirst, killing many farmers' dreams and careers. 

Rain!  I’ve watched and waited like many in the farm community for clouds to roll across the sky, and have been frustrated when they mysteriously evaporate just before reaching my land.  I listen to neighbors recounting how much rain filled their gauges the night before, and find myself feeling happy for them and jealous of their good fortune at the same time.  While my fields of corn are curling to conserve what little moisture is left in the plants, not far away from us the corn grows taller and greener thanks to more frequent rains. 

I watch the weather channel on television and see how other farmers across the country are struggling even more with fields that are cracked and baked, and plants that are beyond hope with stunted stalks shriveling in the hot sun.  I feel blessed that our situation isn’t as dismal as some farmers in the Southeast and elsewhere.  We have not been forced to sell our beef herd like cattlemen in Georgia.  Ironically, many of those pasture-starved cows and calves have headed to Texas where record rains have turned normally arid regions of the Lone Star State into green acres. 

On our farms, the pastures are short and have changed color like a chameleon --- from green to brown to green to brown to green --- since May.  Each time we are forced to feed one of our winter hay bales, I worry that hungry cows will be waiting at empty feeders when it’s cold and snowy, and the barn floors will be bare.  I pray that another cutting or two from our hot and tired hay fields will help tide us over until the promise of next spring’s lush pastures begin to grow. 

All of these challenges from Mother Nature define those of us who depend on her for rain, sun, and fertile soils.  We always want to have the best outcome, but sometimes face the worst.  That’s why the synonym for “farmer” has to be “optimist.”  Webster’s dictionary defines an optimist as someone who takes the most hopeful view of matters and who believes that good ultimately prevails.

As a farmer, I consider myself to be an optimist --- someone who tries to always look on the bright side.  When I was a kid learning to ride my Quarter horse, “Charlie,” my parents would always tell me to get up, dust myself off, and get back on whenever I would fall.  I suppose farming is like falling off a horse.  You have to be ready to dust off the dirt when you fail and try again, and again, and again.

Mother Nature is an unpredictable partner in farming.  Her droughts and floods can knock the wind out of the strongest farmers when they fall victim to droughts and floods.  But, you have to pick yourself back up and keep on farming.  As my Dad said to a news reporter who asked him what he was going to do  when drought claimed his corn crop a few years ago,  his answer was “plant again next year.”

At times it is tough to be an optimist.  My husband Mike says he is a realist.  Despite his contention that he views things as they are and that is a better outlook to have, I much prefer to be an optimist, and hope that things will work out in the end with hard work, a little luck, and lots of prayers.

It’s funny how we pray for rain to keep the corn growing and the hay and pasture fields lush for mowing and grazing.  Then we ask for a few days without rain so that we have perfect weather for cutting, raking, and baling our winter hay.  Sometimes it seems like we are never satisfied and complain when the weather doesn’t cooperate as we think it should.  While it is wonderful to get the entire hay crop in the barn without a drop of rain, we need to remember that prayers for no rain could be answered at just the wrong time in another crop’s life.

As farmers, we need to look for the rainbow, even when storms drench our windrowed hay before its baled.  Our thirsty corn fields are drinking in those same raindrops.  With a little luck and a lot of prayers, they will yield a bumper crop of golden grain later this fall, filling our elusive “pot of gold” with just enough so we can keep on F-A-R-Ming.

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