For months now, we have watched the rain go around us.
It went along the mountain ranges to our north and west and missed us almost entirely. We had a dribble here and there, but not enough to make a difference in the growth of the hayfields.
While the northern part of the county has been dealing with flooding, we've been in a drought since the first of the year, more or less.
Our first cutting of hay was only half of what it should have been.
The second cutting, which should be underway, so far has been skimpy.
My husband started the second cutting last week and finished up two fields. On Sunday, the forecast was for no rain until Wednesday, so he cut 5 acres.
It rained Sunday night. Here! At our place!
And then it rained Monday. Here! At our place!
And it rained last night. Here! At our place!
The good news is it appears that the systems that had the rains passing us by have cracked, and we are now getting rain.
The bad news is, we've lost 5 acres of hay. Once it's soggy, it's (a) hard to bale and (b) the animals won't eat it because it molds.
It will be baled as soon as it dries up but put aside. Maybe it can be used as a place for the babies to lay when it snows, but that's about all it is good for.
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Being a farmer is weather dependent, and with climate change, it's scary. We have no way to gauge what is going on, really, because the weather isn't like it used to be. The fronts are coming in from strange directions. We have smoke-filled skies from Canadian fires, so smoky that we can't even see the clouds to judge if they're up there or not. Sometimes it's so hazy it's like the sun has been veiled.
All we can do is roll with it, and hope that this second cutting of hay perks up with the rain, and we get more than we lost on the 5 acres that is now too wet to bale.
Oh my, I can identify with this! We were only "playing" at being farmers on a 43 acre patch of land, but there were so many times we'd listen to the weatherman and everything was just right for haying; once the hay was cut down, though, surprise rainstorms often came to ruin the hay for our cows. I do know how you feel... although of course Cliff had a job we could depend on. We've both agreed we'd have gone crazy if we were farming for a living.
ReplyDeleteI know how sensitive your nose is, so I imagine that the dampness and the moldy hay, as well as the smoke from the Canadian fires, makes breathing uncomfortable for you. And breathing is important! So I'm thinking of you.
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