On rainbows and racing the rain

 

Last Saturday at the farmers market, I was talking about the weather with another farmer.  “More rain coming Monday,” he had said.  Did he see the look of panic flit across my face?  It was almost dry enough to get into the field with the tractor.  Just the day before, I had made beds and planted potatoes in the still soggy soil.  The last time it was nearly dry enough was several weeks ago in January when I made beds and planted onions.  Tractor work during that dry spell was prematurely terminated when Rosie’s starter went out.  I still needed to disk and made beds for broccoli and cabbage transplants, and peas, carrots, arugula, radishes, turnips…

I felt a little better after another farmer friend told me this is the wettest spring she could remember.  It’s not just me, it really has been wet.  That feeling of relief immediately evaporated as she went on to remark that she had a feeling we are still due for a snowstorm. 

Sunday I forfeited most of my day off to plant more potatoes.  On Monday it was windy and wild out.  Working the soil when it is too wet damages the soil structure making it cloddy and compacted.   But the spring planting window is short.  Unlike summer, which stretches on for ages, the cool temperatures of spring are short lived.  Vegetables that can’t take the heat must be planted early to allow them time to mature before they burn up.  Besides, we’ve got a CSA starting in five weeks.

So there I was, Monday afternoon, in the drizzle and obsessively watching the sky as I raced to disk the field and make beds.  Perhaps “raced” in the wrong word; trudging along in first gear Rosie goes 2 miles an hour.  A brisk walking pace is twice that.  It is agonizing with storm clouds staring you down. 

Amid the drizzle, as I was fitting the hippers onto Rosie to make beds, the sun broke through.  I happened to look up and see a spectacular rainbow in the north east.  It arced across the sky and into our back woods.  I paused to imagine what magical things might be there at the end of the rainbow.  What a timely reminder to stop and look.  I got all my tractor work done, and I even had time to tuck in a bed of arugula and radishes before the rain started in earnest. 

The next couple days I planted cabbage, broccoli, spinach, and yet more potatoes into the wet and freezing soil.  I have the chapped hands to prove it.  Yesterday, Randy and I had a blackberry and muscadine planting marathon before the rain set in yet again, getting 82 plants in the ground.  This morning, our little corner of the world is wet and blanketed in a thick mist.  This weekend promises to be clear with more rain coming Monday.   And so goes spring, wet and trying, but beautiful.