Becoming a real farmer

by Katie on July 29, 2010

So it rained last night.

In all the right ways, thank goodness. It hit the fields where it didn’t matter, and pretty much missed the ones where we had hay down. But all that is beside the point.

The real point here is that now my husband thinks he’s a bona fide meteorologist. That, or he just has a special connection with Mother Nature.

You see, we’ve been threatened with a late summer monsoon rain for going on two solid weeks now. Every afternoon, it would cloud up, we could see some rain in the distance, and occasionally catch a far-off lightning bolt, but it never would quite come to fruition in our part of the valley.

Yesterday morning, upon being outside for a mere two hours, Brandon said, “It’s going to rain tonight. You watch. I haven’t said that with confidence yet, but it will rain tonight.”

So this morning, when we awoke to half an inch on one part of the farm, a little more than that on another, one-tenth at our house, and just a few sprinkles where the hay is, Brandon couldn’t resist gloating a bit. (If you can imagine that, of course. I mean, let’s look past the whole scorpion prediction incident.)

As we were sitting down for lunch, he really let loose with it: “I told you it was going to rain, didn’t I? I haven’t said that yet, even though it’s clouded up almost every day. But I knew it was going to happen last night. I totally called it. Say it ain’t so! I’m like the best weatherman ever or something.”

“Or maybe you’re just finally turning into a real farmer?” I offered.

He didn’t appreciate that one very much. “I’ve been a real farmer.”

But at least he was quiet about his rain prediction after that.

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