Weather Me a Farmer

Carolyn next to the wind-collapsed canopy

Knowing my own past lives, it’s hard sometimes to think of myself as a farmer. But this week it is clear, a farmer I am.

As any self respecting farmer, my obsession with the weather has grown epic. I'm all about tracking weather systems, predicting how accurate the weather man's predictions are and getting down right prickly when he blows it. For me, weather is personal. I vacillate between being convinced I've done something awful to deserve this crazy Virginia spring and secretly fearing my property is uniquely afflicted by winds which never stop. I log onto Weather Underground at each meal, filled with hope and dread over the forecast of near freezing nightly temperatures.

A couple of days ago while hovering over the kitchen sink washing chicken eggs I complained endlessly on the phone to my mother. “One day its 70 with 20 mile an hour winds, and my plants are drying up in front of my eyes. Then it drops to freezing and I’m running around trying to cover all the new seedlings. We’ve had so much rain the well driller can’t get in and half my beds are waterlogged. This weather is ridiculous, it’s killing me.”

“You know,” she finally said. “Your granddad used to gripe about the farmer’s obsession with the weather and how they were never happy. It’s too rainy, too hot, the winds blowing all the time.” She paused. “I guess I finally understand what he was talking about.” We laughed, not much has changed in 70 years!

It’s a mixed bag here at Dug In. We lost quite a bit of early planting but several hardy souls promise a summer of bounty. Let me know how your figs and Rosemary and fruit trees fared. And if you ever find yourself taking the weather a bit too personally, well, maybe a farmer you are!

As always, thanks for stopping by, Carolyn