Country Roads

The topic is rain
From Weed to Woodland Hills; from Button Willow to Belvedere and everywhere in between, the topic is rain, or, more correctly, the lack thereof. The weather has always been the fall back topic when all else fails – at wedding receptions when all you know are the bridal couple and they cannot sit and hold your hand for any length of time to make you feel necessary; or at cocktail parties, to which you wish you hadn’t been invited. And in the atmosphere of Skype when you are sitting in front of that tiny camera that makes us all look like the old folks that some of us are, the default topic is always, “How is the weather up there?” or “over there?” or “down there?”
Weather, however, has assumed an additional ominous tone these days, when daily we search the skies and the news for a drop of rain in the forecast. And, because there is little precedent for our drought, we are learning or unlearning things nearly every day.
For instance, who’d have thought that we shouldn’t spray fruit trees to prevent peach leaf curl until the rain comes, if it ever does? Stone fruit trees are usually sprayed during the three holidays, beginning Thanksgiving, then Christmas, followed by Valentine’s Day. But, wait ! My friend, Bryce Austin warned, “Don’t spray the trees – it is too dry and the copper will burn the tree. You’ve got to wait until it rains. The spores won’t pop until they get wet anyway.”
While lack of rainfall takes the prize as the most favored topic, the extreme cold comes in at a close second. What is with this 23-degree, pipe-bursting, plant-killing air that is so persistent? How long will my neighbor have his Christmas tree lights draped around his small lemon tree under a canopy of row cover? The string of lights was and is a brilliant idea, much better than my layered covering of our Meyer Lemon, but both trees look like they were struck by an Arctic blast and they were.
Part of our family drove down from Oregon for Christmas and they “couldn’t believe how dry California is.” Dry? Cold? Dry is when the Bell Beans cover crop is in danger of dying from lack of water. Cold is when I have to drive a shovel through the top inch of the water dishes upon which our animals depend.
“Whoa – why can’t I get my little bunny nose into my water dish this morning?”
“Whatever you did to our drinking water, lady, it hurts my beak to attempt a taste. Cut it out.”
My sister in Cloverdale called the other night with a great story.
“I have to tell you, Renee, about a miracle that happened to Lou and I. I was sitting in the family room watching television and Lou was getting ready for bed. Instead, he returned and came down the hall.
Marilyn! It’s raining!”
The two of them looked out their backyard window and, indeed, it was pouring.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful?” they agreed.
A few minutes went by and each went their separate way for the moment. Then, my sister decided that something didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t the rain predicted? She thought to check the front yard, mainly to observe the rushing water in the street gutter. Opening the door, she stepped outside. It was still. It was dry. There was no rain on this side of the house. Returning to the family room, she found that Lou had the same misgiving and had stepped outside into the deluge.
After calling a helpful neighbor who turned off the main water source valve at the side of the house, which, by the way, magically made the rain stop, they waited until morning to solve the mystery – a broken pipe in the lawn sprinkler system.
Oh, but how precious it was for just a few minutes, the sound of the rain against the windows and the promise of real measurements of rainfall saturating our parched earth. Will we ever coil up the garden hoses and put them away as we did in normal years? Will we even have gardens to water? Snow for the Central Valley? Drinking water for Los Angeles? Water for Weed? Only the bunny knows.
Renee Kiff weeds and writes at her family farm in Alexander Valley.