I was out early this morning, checking the stock, feeding the chickens, and getting ready to make a 150 mile round trip to pick up 5 hogs we’d had butchered. As I was moving around in the quiet of the morning, I could hear a turkey gobbler in the distant woods, calling out, letting his world know that he’d survived another night and was living in a new day. I moved to the truck and began the rush hour journey to MD’s Eastern Shore.
The trip became more pleasant after I crossed the Bay Bridge and turned up US 301 into farm country. By all visible measures the farms are large, worked by large tractors moving large equipment, planting large fields that will be watered by large irrigation systems. And so it was today. Farmers had the irrigation going full tilt as we face an April with no rain and little prospects.
On our own bit of ground, comically small in comparison, we’ve begun to irrigate just to get germination going. What had seemed like a pleasant spring has suddenly turned on us. The horses’ hooves resemble August, the spring grass is slowing down, and our dew points are beginning to rival the Southwest. At least cultivation and weeding yield positive results.
Each year is different; average is only the mathematical computation of the competing extremes. So here’s to another day of extraordinary beauty tinged with real, and expected, challenges. It just wouldn’t be worth living otherwise.