I’ve been up since 4:30. Woke up trying to identify that constant rushing noise, that didn’t match anything in my head’s catalog of noises-the-cabin-makes. There was the clock ticking, check. Little Bear grumbling in his sleep, got it. But what’s that constant noise, like an engine or motor? Can the space heater make that noise? Sort of, but no, not that loud.
What is it?
Finally woke up enough to realize – it was raining! Seriously raining, not just a drip. And now it’s quarter to six as I write this para, and it’s still raining. Hasn’t done that in so long I’d never really registered what that sounds like in the insulated and drywalled bedroom.
Coming back over the western hills from the Big Town yesterday evening Neighbor D and I saw a band of really ugly black sky in the eastern distance. “Somebody’s in for rough weather,” said D. I replied, “I hardly ever say this, but I kind of hope it’s us.” It’s been that dry. A week or two ago the cattleman dumped 160 presumably-pregnant cattle on us and I don’t know what he expects to happen – there’s virtually nothing here for them to eat at the moment. Last Monsoon was a bust here locally, and there’s been barely any moisture all winter. Nothing but juniper is green. They lost a bunch of cattle last spring, and local forage wasn’t nearly as bad as it is right now.
I kind of like it green, but to me rain mostly just means mud. If I were the cattleman, I’d be praying to my Satanic Majesty for a month of solid rain.