observations in a state of drought

There's a little bug tapping out a little tattoo on the styrofoam ceiling tiles of the room I am in. It's circling the light fixture right above me. I can't see what kind of bug it is as it is moving too fast but it must be a small beetle of sorts since it's little body is making quite a whack against the styrofoam. It's dark out and the frogs, dependent on the daily watering we do, are singing accompanied intermittently by the wind chime.

Everyone around the country is getting pounded with rain and wants it to go away and I wish we could get some. We have had no significant rain since January. The ground is starting to crack and the grass that is in the sun is shriveling. We are a month ahead in the season. These temperatures are end of May weather and we have had no April showers.

I'm surprised how high the corn has gotten considering how dry it has been, but the fields look healthy and green. The farmer who tends the fields at the end of the street planted cotton again this year. He has always alternated between cotton and corn since we have been out here and this should have been a corn year. I wonder if cotton does better than corn in drought conditions but also my sister tells me that cotton is going for record prices.

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Sitting here this morning, having just arisen, looking out the open back door, a female cardinal is having a splash in the birdbath, a squirrel is in the ginkgo tree, the baby wren is in the photinia, the turtle is on her sunning stone and a crow comes to perch on the top rail of the fence. The crow files off cawing loudly as the squirrel makes it's way carefully down the trunk to the rim of the pond and nervously leans in for a drink and almost loses it's footing. The birdbaths have a steady stream of visitors and must be filled almost daily. I imagine all their other sources for water have dried up long ago.

It's overcast and windy today though, humidity in the air, but it's a tease. They say our next best chance for rain is not til Sunday evening. Fortunately we had a front move in two days ago and so it's not so hot as it has been. The hot dry wind has been making it hard to keep things well watered even though I water every day. The roses did not grow old, fade and drop their petals so much as become dry desiccated versions of their previously lovely selves. The azaleas I transplanted a month ago are still seriously unhappy.

But this wind! It has been nearly constant for months, unusually so. We do generally enjoy a nice breeze out here but this is not breeze. This is Wind with 30 - 40 mph gusts. It's like being pushed around by invisible hands every time I venture outside.

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Driving out to my sister's house I am startled to see that the roadside grasses are completely brown and dried, something that doesn't usually happen til August. After the beautiful display last month of evening primrose in the pastures they now sport a sprinkling of coneflowers and horsemint, seemingly too dry even for the summer wildflowers.

This constant wind is blowing the dead branches out of the trees. The burn pile, already taller than I am, is getting bigger and bigger and as I haul another load of branches to it I think we may have to start a second pile if the burn ban isn't lifted soon. I don't see that happening though as we are already about 7” behind in our annual rainfall with April being the driest ever on record.

The 13 acre field behind us is also filled with dead and dry grasses. The owners of the field have not had it mowed for two years. Some of the dead stalks are as tall as I am, at least the ones that have not been laid flat by the wind. In the past I have viewed the unmown field with pleasure but now it alarms me. If a careless spark lights it up, this constant wind will blow the flames directly into our yard.

I think I will borrow my sister's rain stick and give it a good shake or two.