Sometimes when I’m about to give up hope, it’s words from long ago conversations that keep me hanging on. Well into May, the country was so dry we hardly dared sleep for being on fire watch. Watching the sand begin to blow, pastures that showed no trace of green, and flowerbeds that refused to wake up, was depressing and scary. What sustained me was a couple of remarks from friends during other worrisome spring times.
Speaking with a neighbor on a windy day back in the 90’s, we mentioned a sky that was some sort of brown from dust. It looked like the start of another dust bowl, but my friend said, “It’ll rain. It always has.” She was right, of course. It did rain eventually, and we got by as people who live on the land learn to do.
It’s easy for me to ride the “what if’ train during drought years. I was raised by people who lived through the Dust Bowl. It wasn’t just my parents; all the neighbors had stories too. Another friend says his parents survived that era but they never got over it. I replied, “And neither did we.” We heard so much of their struggles that we fall into fear at the first hint of drought. And then, it rains, as it always does, eventually. The good side of that coin is that we are frugal folks, knowing in the back of our minds that hard times always come around again. We don’t require as many of the modern amenities as younger people seem to, and try to tuck some away for unrainy days that we know are inevitable.
Bruce notes rainfall amounts on the kitchen calendar. This spring it remained blank until Memorial Day weekend when slow, steady rain began and continued for several days. The Sandhills are pretty forgiving. They can stand a lot of drought but with a little moisture, the grasses turn green overnight and immediately grow several inches. Right now, it appears we might have a hay crop, and pastures will hold up through the season. Maybe timely rains will continue, but some years they don’t. For now, I’ll enjoy the green, the flowers that decided to wake up, and the birds that congregate, knowing there will be feed, even if we dry up again.
Words have the power to change our lives. Sometimes the speakers aren’t aware of the wisdom they pass on. What matters is that we pay attention so as to catch those thoughts to keep.
Those two conversations have saved my sanity more than once. Here’s another comment that turned my world around. “The most precious gift you can give someone is your time.”
This summer, I intend to spend more time with people, really listen to them, and not put off the visits with distant friends and family. At my age, I’m running short of “somedays.”
If it doesn’t keep raining and the garden dries up, I’ll give some of my time to people and places I’ve neglected, instead of fussing about what I can’t change.
Meet me here next week, and meanwhile do your best. Somebody might like it.