most of the time our farm is lovely. we sit along the idyllic banks of the flat rock creek, our bottom land offers us moisture in dry summers, a cool respite on the hottest days. alas, last monday she showed her strength, that flat rock did, and i am still a little shaky.
it was about 6:00 pm on monday and we experienced a flash flood: over 6 inches of rain fell in less than 30 minutes and the creek swelled in a way we had never seen. in this dramatic show of nature’s power, i felt desperate and giddy and thankful and tired simultaneously.
these images probably have meaning only to those of you that know our farm and have meandered the bottoms along the flat rock creek. still, i feel compelled to share with all of you. now, in the wet aftermath, i have settled into thankfulness. all is well. fences will be repaired. crops will be replanted. today, the sun shines bright.
Somehow, it’s already mid-July. Not sure how that happened. It seems like we were just engulfed by the spring rush and now we are trying to get the potatoes out of the ground during this brief window of time between tons of rain and the daily chance for more rain. Here in Bugtussle, we just skirted by NOT getting the last couple of storms that blew through, luckily, leaving the potato patch (which is fortunately all hilled up, therefore drying out more quickly) just dry enough to fiddle with. My fellow farmwives, particularly Robin, have continued getting swamped. Literally, swamped. (You’ll be hearing more on this soon, I’m sure!) The rain has come in torrents, leaving us to witness the incredible force of raging water. Leaving us feeling helpless in the wake of all the rain.
As it goes, I am pretty much useless in the gardens right now. While I am pleased that my broken leg is healing quickly and nicely (no surgery will be needed!), I can’t help but also feel a little bit depressed about my inefficiency and inability to lend a hand. It’s my own deal, I know that. Everyone else on the farm is very supportive and encouraging me to take it easy. Truly, I’m thankful for that. Still and all, I like being busy. I like working. At this stage in my pregnancy, too, I want desperately to be able to continue to move my body and stay fit for labor. But I also have to be sensible about my limits, and not do anything that will create further damage somewhere else in my body. Oh, the razor’s edge! I am figuring out a few things that I can do (other than knitting) but I’m as slow as a seven-year-itch. I can wash dishes… as long as someone else hauls the dirty ones to the sink. I can drive the golf cart left-footed and ease up next to the blueberry bushes to pick from a seated position. I can scoot around on my butt on the floor with a hand broom and dustpan for sweeping. I am learning to ask for help, which quite honestly, I’m not very good at. It’s all very humbling for me but ultimately, a minor bump in the road. I know I will look back on this time with a sigh and a smile.
The rain has stopped for the time being, and I’m so grateful. We’ve gotten somewhere between 6 and 8 inches of precipitation this week. I know it could have been worse, but it’s still just too much.
Nothing has been blown over, but there will be repercussions in the garden. Time will tell.
There’s nothing like a deluge to show you where you’re at. For instance, this deluge revealed to us the substandard nature of our livestock living quarters.
My thought for this week is as follows:
Necessity is NOT the mother of invention.
Do people falling from cliffs invent airplanes? (No.)
Do starving people create agricultural innovation? (No. They often eat their seed supply.)
this is our funky goat house. oh well.
Necessity is the mother of funky contraptions that will do until we can come up with something better.
So be it.