September 9, 2022
A nice gentle rain, slow enough to settle in and soak the ground, steady enough to make a difference - it was exactly what the doctor ordered for my thoroughly parched soul.
Our rain barrels overflowed, and the retention pond is almost full. Rice Brook which runs alongside our fence line, flowed again for the first time in months - and our pastures positively gleamed with moisture.
The pigs slept the rainy days away, tucked into their shelters on a bed of hay - no doubt enjoying the sound of the rain steadily tapping on the tin roof above. Once the rain stopped, they ran out to greet us, splashing through the puddles, with total, joyous abandon. Pigs hate the heat, and the cool wet weather makes them as happy as it makes me.
The chickens stayed under shelter and out of the weather, but as soon as the rain let up, they hurried about, foraging for all the bugs the rain brings out.
We left the barn door open, in case the sheep wanted shelter from the rain, and from the doorway they watched as we walked by. People say sheep are stupid, but I must say they were looking pretty dry as Anne and I slogged through the mud to bring them their morning hay. In fact, they looked a whole lot drier than we did.
The mushrooms have a new lease on life. After weeks of wondering if our shiitake logs had all “dried and died,” the mycelium has reawakened, and the white threads can be seen colonizing the ends of the logs once again. Soon mushrooms will be emerging from the forest floor and on the logs in our shiitake yard – because like me, they are also inspired by a gentle soaking rain.