Last summer, in anticipation of summer rain, he sent me a rain gauge that his bank has been using as a customer gift since, oh, probably statehood. It was shiny and had the bank’s name on it. When our monsoon hit in July, we were ready.
Our late summer rains are pretty reliable; it’s the spring rains that can make a big difference.
Even 2 or 3 inches will get the grass growing before it gets so hot. It affects the delicate balance that haunts dairymen: milk vs. reproduction. When a cow is generating enough milk to keep the calf’s condition positive, there may not be enough energy left in her body to cycle. There’s nothing prettier than a sleek cow in good condition with a big bag and a good-sized calf at her side. Well, it would be even prettier if the bull were trying to mount her!
My neighbors and I have a morning-after rainfall report. The one that tells his amount first usually gets one-tenth less. I’m sure most of you have heard the joke about the farmer who left his double barrel shotgun leaned up against the property line fence. After the big rain he retrieved his shotgun. One barrel was full of rain and the one on his side was plum dry.
It’s not unusual for us to get that kind of spotty precipitation in the county, though by the end of our rainy season we’re within 2 inches of each other. If we get more than five minutes into a conversation I’m sure to be reminded when it rained every year on the same day. “Yessir, sonny! Jes like clarkwork. You could set yer watch by the afternoon showers.” Sometimes Noah comes up in the discussion. Then the subject will switch to the times when it was so dry fish were wearing sunblock.
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