Posts Tagged ‘drought’
Temporary Relief
In the predawn hours yesterday morning, I emerged from a deep sleep to notice the sound of raindrops landing on surfaces. I then dropped back into the best of early-morning snoozing, hearing the blessed chorus of a prolonged shower of life-giving water in the back of my mind.
This morning, it was nice to see two raincoats hanging on the coat rack inside the front door.
One of our rain gauges collected a half-inch; the other, less so. Certainly better than nothing, but really only a tease of what is needed for the health of everything growing outdoors.
It’s not often that I find myself drawn to taking a picture of water flowing out of the downspout. It made me a really happy guy in the moment.
Elysa came for a sleepover yesterday and captured a shot of Asher and me showing our joy over the refreshing rain has carried into this morning.
I’m not asking for much. Just a rain shower every so often to lighten the mood. A little comic relief from the ongoing struggles of enduring all the catastrophic events happening on a cooking planet.
It’s important to smile while you can.
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Tough Days
Since I didn’t need to mow any grass yesterday, I went for a bike ride. It was only a short ride in the late afternoon, but it was my first pedalling in three and a half weeks. I need to do a little more conditioning via hours on the saddle in preparation for a week of riding with 4 of my cycling besties beginning on Labor Day weekend. We will be heading to Missouri to ride the Katy Trail, which crosses the majority of the state from west to east.
It’s practically like riding from Kansas City to St. Louis.
The grass in front of Cyndie’s perennial garden doesn’t really resemble grass anymore.
It looks more like a brown rug.
Over by the barn, there is clear evidence that shade can make a huge difference in protecting grass from the harsh, baking sunshine.
It looks like a shadow of the maple tree canopy over that slope.
Tough days lately. Both Dolly Parton (80) and Tim Curry (80) died; our grass is dying; and Nepal and Tibet have had a massive flash flood that created a wall of water, mud, and debris that slammed into people, buildings, and bridges. The videos are harrowing to watch.
People the world over could use a hug. Let’s cut ourselves a little extra slack for a while as we cope with so much loss all at once. Put some energy into producing healthy doses of love and send them out into the physical and spiritual worlds in waves upon waves. The more we send, the more that will find its way back over us.
A healing balm for others and for ourselves.
Peace to you, dear readers. Namaste.
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Dryer Still
And somehow we have arrived at the 25th day of August in 2026. I don’t feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to reach this day, but it has taken my entire life to get here. Yet, it’s just another day. A Tuesday. Whatever.
We paid a lot of money to fill Cyndie’s car with gas in Hayward and made our way home without incident yesterday, despite needing to navigate our way through three construction projects. We found the land at home even drier than it was when we left, Asher in good spirits, and the horses looking healthy and content.
We had a fabulous time over the weekend with Cyndie’s brother, Steve, and her mom. Steve was able to take Marie home, which allowed us to drive directly to our place. As much as we appreciate settling into our usual environs and routines, we were already feeling a little sorry last night about the absence of the extra atmosphere of fun that permeated the last four days.
Maybe Marie was noticing the same thing, as she phoned just after we finished dinner to report she wasn’t feeling 100%. Out of an abundance of caution, Cyndie opted to grab her favorite pillows and head to Bloomington to offer support and extend the pleasure of being together for one more day.
Asher and I will be running things at home this morning.
It’s tough to see everything so dry around here, but it does reduce the amount of mowing that I need to do.
Somehow, the plum trees have found enough moisture to produce a fair amount of good-looking fruit. More power to ‘em. I suspect we will be collecting fruit soon for Cyndie to can or use in some baked goodies. We’ll need to collect them before thirsty birds or critters go after the fruit simply for hydration.
I’m counting down the days until we receive the next measurable precipitation. May it arrive sooner than anyone is expecting.
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It Rained!
Real rain fell on the land last night. It was glorious. Adding to our excitement, there were moments of spectacular lightning bolts flashing across the sky. It’s been over a month since we received any measurable precipitation, and the ground was as dry as I’ve ever seen it.
I’m actually looking forward to the possibility of some mud in the paddocks this morning, although it would be a surprise if the ground didn’t fully absorb all the water like a thirsty sponge.
Despite the two nights that dipped below freezing last week, there are still places where the grass continues to grow, and Cyndie just found new blossoms on the hollyhocks she got from Liz. I don’t know what to expect next after this dose of life-giving water.
Maybe a period of normal weather. Wait, what is normal weather?
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Still Blooming
Nearing the end of the second week of October in my part of the world didn’t used to involve rose blossoms. These days, this kind of outdoor plant behavior is not all that surprising.
Asher and I were visiting the labyrinth to top off the water bag around the maple tree when I noticed the flowers. They stood out against the drought-influenced fading life and fallen leaves all around them. I was struck by the fact the rose bush was able to do so much with so little moisture available in the ground.
I must admit, it feels somewhat futile to try giving one tree a tiny bit of extra water while the rest of the growth in the surrounding woods is left wanting.
The fall colors have been less spectacular than some other years but it is changing.
As dusk settled in and the half-moon stood out brightly in the sky, the uncharacteristic warmth of a summer evening on this October night was simply the new normal.
While other parts of the world are coping with floods, our little nook in Wisconsin, USA, is warm and dry.
With rose blossoms.
Water Woes
I’m beginning to feel that water is the real “can’t live with it; can’t live without it” element in our world. It’s obvious that we need water to survive. It’s a little odd that I’m choosing to dis water during a phenomenally dry period of more than a month. This current stretch of dry weather has taken us from an unusually wet spring and summer into problematic drought conditions.
Cyndie added a water bag around the trunk of the young maple tree in the center of the labyrinth yesterday to help it cope with the water shortage.
One of the pesky water issues that triggered me yesterday has to do with the inspection of our chimney. I learned different ways water is the culprit we need to fend off constantly. The 34-year-old “crown” at the top of our chimney is flatter than it is crowned and the masonry is cracking. The rain and snow that lands on those cracks can seep in and become problematic in various ways.
One thing I didn’t consider is how condensation inside the chimney can contribute to the degradation of masonry or corrosion of the metal of the damper or firebox components.
Looking closely at the masonry around the stones on the outside of our chimney reveals a few cracks forming and has me resigned to adding a sealer to extend the life of the structure.
We just finished re-sloping the landscape around the garage foundation, and I’ve rerouted gutter downspouts, all to protect our house from water. The logs and deck have been sealed to protect them from the abuses of water. The integrity of our roof shingles is a constant concern to protect the house from water damage.
Cyndie just got home from the lake, where she spent the weekend dealing with a water leak in the basement laundry room, where signs of mold along the baseboard are already evident.
I’m anxious to find out if the potential failure of an electrical splice is somehow water-related. I uncovered the three splices yesterday and didn’t see anything obvious. I chose not to mess with it so the electrician could observe the condition they were in when uncovered.
I truly hope this old repair proves to be the problem. If not, the alternative may require burying a whole new run of wires the full distance from the circuit breaker box on the shop wall down to the barn.
That would involve a long pathway beneath the large expanse of asphalt in front of the shop garage.
Please let the fix be in the splice I’ve dug up.
Back to water problems, my brain is hurting from the ongoing news reports about the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene, and now Hurricane Milton is winding up with a scary level of intensity bearing toward Florida’s Gulf coast.
Water, water everywhere. It gives us life and it can be the bane of our existence.
For the sake of all our growing things, I sure hope it rains here pretty soon. And when it does, I also wish the water would stay out of all the places we don’t want it to go.
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It Seems
It seems to me today that I can’t add anything that you don’t already know. What would be the point of describing how oppressive the hatch of mosquitoes has been since the last long ago rainfall? Despite how fast the grass around here grew after that last dosage of water from the sky, I ended up deciding not to cut it, because the days have been nothing but hot and dry ever since. I didn’t want to stress the grass at a time it was again enduring another stretch of hot, dry weather.
Maybe we’ll get another batch of moisture on Friday, but I can only imagine what that will do for the mosquito population. I’m thinking about mowing this afternoon when I get home from work.
As I turned the last corner onto our street coming home from work yesterday, I was passed by a farm tractor coming from the opposite direction. Then another and another. Ten, then twenty, maybe thirty in a row. Every variety of manufacturers, some with a single passenger beside or behind the driver looking almost board, many with flags attached. A few had cute canvas canopies over the top for shade.
I guess that was something you didn’t know about. I certainly didn’t know anything about it. Some sort of parade out in the wide-open countryside on a Wednesday afternoon when few people might be around to notice. I didn’t see any signs to convey a message. Maybe they were headed somewhere to congregate and make a point. Protest at the steps of the county courthouse over the lack of rain?
My positive momentum is fatigued due to the constant waves of angst flowing from Afghanistan / Taliban / Wildfires / Earthquake / Tropical Storms / Delta Variant / Mask Mandates / Booster Shots / Political Blame / Shouting Matches / Criminal Trials / Sick Pets and every other challenge to peace and harmony that is vibrating so strong these days.
A certain feeling of guilt over the blissful beauty of our immediate surroundings needs to be processed before getting on with the beaming of healthy love out into the universe from the heart.
When I walked up to the paddock gate Tuesday evening to see the fallen snag first hand, Light responded to my presence instantly by purposely crossing the length of the small paddock toward me to make a brief connection. She inhaled my scent, paused, and looked around. I extended a hand to offer a scratch but she had stopped out of my reach. She breathed in again with her nose on my hand, then slowly moved on to join the rest of her herd near the overhang.
You probably didn’t know about that exchange, either.
Seems to me, the old adage about writing what I know tends to work out even when I don’t realize there is anything new about which to write.
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Fawns Visit
Yesterday morning, first thing, Cyndie reported seeing a momma deer and two fawns out our bedroom window. I was just commenting the other day that there was no sign of any nibbling of our hostas back there this summer. I didn’t check yet to see if that still holds true.
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After work yesterday, I was busy mowing the opposite side of our property. After just one downpour of rain over the weekend, our grass responded with a burst of growth. There was nothing strategic about my mowing methods this time. I cut everything possible in the time before dinner was served.
I heard a meteorologist’s analysis that the one occasion of heavy rain on Saturday was not sufficient to break the overall drought our region is suffering. He said that would require getting rain in similar amounts at least once a week for multiple weeks. The long-range forecast doesn’t bode well for that happening.
I’m counting our blessings that we have so few areas where the stress of dryness is obvious. Most trees and shrubs are looking close to normal. Grassy areas that get some shade look downright healthy.
Maybe the deer don’t need the hostas if there are enough other choices for grazing. They were probably just visiting to be social.
Delilah failed to detect them, so they weren’t driven away by loud, ferocious barking. She is a little under the weather and threw up the full contents of her stomach yesterday. Cyndie said it appeared a couple of days-worth of food wasn’t getting processed and came back up.
When that happened other times, we immediately discarded the rest of whatever can of food she was being served and start a fresh one. Since it always did the trick the other times, we are returning to that solution for now.
Meanwhile, she is doing some grazing of her own, chomping on grass when she is out on a walk.
Good thing it got tall after the last blast of rain.
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Strategic Mowing
The drought we are experiencing has stressed all growing things but our grass is the plant that looks the saddest. I have tried to stay off it as much as possible to avoid completely turning it to dust. The problem is, we’ve got a lot of weeds that don’t seem to care one bit that it is so dry. Heck, they appear to prefer it.
In addition to the weeds needing to be knocked down, there are shady areas where the grass is growing enough to deserve mowing.
Since I am headed for the lake again this weekend, joining Cyndie who is already up there, I decided to do a little strategic mowing yesterday after work. I made selective passes over spots most visible from the road or our driveway.
It provides a first impression that implies our property is well-tended.
Closer inspection would reveal that is not entirely accurate.
It feels good to have trimmed up the most prominent grassy areas despite the remaining spots where the weeds are getting taller than grass blades. I’m going to focus on the fact I am avoiding driving over the sections where the grass looks the most stressed.
A long, soaking rain would be a welcome change, but we have only been getting brief, heavy bursts that promote just enough growth that I have to strategically mow the green areas while the stressed areas fail to show signs of recovery.
I am curious to learn whether this month will offer any change to the weather pattern we have experienced for the last two. Time will tell.
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Really Dry
There are places suffering a lot worse drought consequences than we are, but the impact of our moderate drought conditions right now are noticeable all around our property. In the nine years that we have lived here, I have only seen it approach this level of dryness one other time.
It gets a little nerve-wracking owning large animals when grazing land begins to dry up. So far, I’d say we have been pretty lucky. Our hay shed is stacked high with bales and our fields have plenty of growth left from May that the horses have only lightly grazed.
We are still hoping the neighbor farmer who previously rented our fields to grow hay will cut and bale the hayfield soon. The horses barely put a dent in the growth out there and it’s long past ready for cutting. I assume it has increased value to him given conditions, but his delay tending to the task has us wondering. (We just learned his equipment broke down but he’s got it fixed and hopes to make it out later today.)
I feel really lucky that so much of our surroundings are staying as green as they are. Out of the roughly 4 acres of grass I mow, only two spots have dried up to a dead-brown-looking crisp.
We do not water the grass around the house and both front and back are faring really well considering.
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I think a lot of it has to do with the surrounding shade that keeps the ground from baking as severely as open areas.
Now if the trees can just hold out long enough to outlast the dryness, the rest of our land might get by just fine.
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Relative Something 