A kid on the farm, especially a kid who likes the seasons, the crops and animals, will surely have become intimate with weather. I was that kid and remain him today.
Daddy introduced me to the magic of sunrises, the poetry of birds flying at sunset, the unstoppable behavior of flooded waters, the hard work of snow removal, the devastation on hail storms, and best of all, the power of thunderstorms. I’m a better person because I watched gently waving wheat and faced the losses caused by late frost.
Not having TV or a radio, we watched the skies for tomorrow’s weather. Sometimes the animals told us of coming weather changes.
In our home we were not permitted to complain about the weather. I remember occasions when we gathered in the living room, got down on our knees and prayed for rain.
Thus, I am watching the skies these days. The entire state is on a water ban. The mile square around our residence hasn’t received a half inch of rain since early May. Today on driving to Montgomery County I saw corn too dry to make decent silage. No, I don’t feel like complaining. Instead I am in awe of our helplessness when weather passes us by.