Relative Something

What a day of weather we experienced at Wintervale yesterday! Despite all the fence trimming I was hoping to accomplish, the repeated downpours we received prevented me from achieving that goal. The dew point temperature was in the low 70s°F when we woke up, and none of the storms throughout the day did much to change that. The air stayed thick, feeding that energy to the waves of storms that rolled over, one after another.

Before we stepped out the front door to walk Asher and tend to the horses, Cyndie commented with surprise that it looked like it had already rained. I thought that strange, as I walked through the house from our bedroom, because the deck was still dry.

Then Cyndie figured out she had left a sprinkler on all night. Oops. That was probably helping to keep the humidity up.

We were expecting a delivery of a pallet of food for the horses, so we opened the barn and hoped it would come soon. Thankfully, it didn’t arrive so soon that it got caught in the first energetic thunderstorm.

When we received notice that they were a half-hour out, I headed down to the barn to be ready to guide the delivery. I found the horses calmly sharing space under one side of the overhang.

Every time the other three don’t chase Mia out from under the roof line during bad weather is a victory in our eyes. I had to capture the moment with a photo. Of course, the whole other side was wide open for shelter, but for some reason beyond my understanding, the horses seem to have an aversion to taking advantage of such a simple solution.

The rain suddenly paused just long enough that the feed delivery was completed without getting soaked. The driver said that wasn’t the case on his prior stop, after which he followed the storm the whole way to our place, watching the brilliant lightning strikes on the back edge of the squall. While I was standing with the horses waiting for him to arrive, we witnessed one of those fascinating strikes split into two zagging streaks, followed so closely by the bang of thunder that both the horses and I flinched because it felt too close for comfort.

Each time we thought the worst had moved beyond us, and the sky was getting lighter, a blast of thunder announced the arrival of another dose of heavy weather.

Around dinner time, Cyndie checked the rain gauge and announced that 5 inches had been collected during the day. That seemed a bit of a shock to me, so I asked her to find out what was in the gauge down by the labyrinth next time she walked Asher. It struck her as odd that it only held 1-and-a-half inches.

A while later, she figured it out. The first rain gauge by the house was where she had left the sprinkler on all night. Yeah, oops. Sometimes, we humans can be our own worst enemies.

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