Blessed Rain

Early August, 2012. Rains have helped renew green forages.

When the severe drought in June brought an early fall, and many trees shed their leaf canopies entirely, I know we were not alone in praying for rain. Thankfully, while the Midwest continued to suffer, Middle Tennessee received rains throughout July. The expanse of dirt that filled our front acreage again became a pasture. Now, in early August, the rains are continuing to keep the grasses greened and growing.

Kids clearing brush behind the house.

A couple of days ago I moved the goat kids into a newly-overgrown area directly behind the house, not generally a pasture space--but since all of our lawnmowers have either four hooves or feet and beaks, it is trimmed by animals. The kids are doing a good job, now that they've gotten over being separated from their dams. I'm glad to have the weeds to feed them.

Our sweet potato patch.

The sweet potato plants are growing like gangbusters. They've taken over the little bed allotted to them, surmounted the chicken wire enclosure, and entered the surrounding field. I don't know if they're producing anything; the plants are so thick, it's hard to dig down there. I should probably add more bedding--hay or straw--for the roots to grow into, and will do this just as soon as a bale of straw wanders this way.

We are blessed with all the rain that has brought life back to the plants. This is a glorious place to live and a glorious time to be alive.

Drought Recovery, in Progress

Late June, 2012. Land is day; vegetation is gone.

By the end of June, 2012, the land around here was dry, dry, dry. Annual rainfall was down in excess of eleven inches. The water pressure on our well was insufficient to reach all necessary destinations. Many farmers were selling off their herds, while others of us were seriously contemplating extreme downsizing measures. Our alpacas' coats were packed with dust because we no longer had green pastures for them to roam. And we were feeding hay-- precious hay that was not to have been needed until autumn--with little prospect of second or third cuttings becoming available later in the season. We watched our neighbors cutting entire fields of cornstalks, trying to salvage what they could from plants that would not be producing ears. At one time, such circumstances would have filled me with anxiety, trepidation, and dread. These days I have a deep, abiding faith that allows me to accept what comes with trust in the future.

8 July 2012.  Wet promises.

When the calendar flipped into July, the rains came. Steamy-hot days were concluded with showy thunderstorms and the blessedly cool breezes they delivered. We opened windows wide to welcome the fresh air, and positioned buckets and barrels to catch the roof runoff.

The okra plants along the driveway that we had started from seed, and watered by hose just to keep alive, finally put out more than the two or four leaves they had been sporting. They have began to look like plants with a future, although not yet like productive bushes. The self-sown pumpkins down beyond the gate have stopped wilting dangerously. The blueberry bushes are even showing some sprigs of spring green, although it appears that we did lose one of the six bushes we put in this year.

14 July 2012. The land is greening again.

May these rains continue to fall. Although this area is not yet out of drought conditions, we have escaped the Severe Drought label we carried through June and have dodged the sword that has fallen across so much of the country's farmland. Praise the Lord!

One of our remaining two horses, the black-and-white Spotted Saddle Horse named Millie, is close to being sold. Soon she should be romping across 400 lush acres with 80 other horses. Miss Janet, the filly, will be next. That will leave more pasture for the rest.

Hopefully, the rains will continue apace, allowing the land and water-levels to recover fully. In the meantime, we continue to feed hay judiciously, and are rotating the goats and alpacas through the back acres and woods to graze on the green as it appears.