It was during our lunch break last Thursday when the rain started to fall. At first slow and intermittent, then stronger and more insistent. By mid-afternoon it was clear we were in for a steady downpour for the balance of the day. I couldn’t have been happier.
Then it kept on raining through the weekend. By the time the skies cleared on Sunday, we had been given over six inches of rain. (I can’t say how much for sure because my rain gauges kept overflowing.) In the big picture, that’s all to the good. I’ll wager all this rain pulled us out of our regional drought—great news for the trees and shrubs and perennials and such, which were all becoming more than a little drought stressed.
On the smaller scale of our field, I was slightly more concerned. Will the fields flood? Will the soil become waterlogged and the crops suffocate? Will the seeds I just sowed wash out of the soil? And how long will the mud keep us out of the fields, and how far behind might we fall? But I needn’t have worried. Any standing water drained away by Sunday evening. All the crops are growing strong. And the soil isn’t overly muddy, so we ought to be able to get at least a little field work done this week.
I’d like to take credit for all that, of course, citing the organic farming practices that elevate the soil’s water handling capacity by increasing organic matter and microbial life, etcetera, etcetera. And that’s probably at least partly true. But it’s also true that the season gives us what it gives us, by grace or good fortune, and our job is to receive it all with gratitude.