it seems i've spent a good part of my life hoping for rain. many summer days in my youth were spent walking the rows of cotton with a hoe in hand, or riding that old john deere out and back and repeat. on days like today i'd have an eye to the sky. dry land cotton farming is a make or break situation completely dependent on the rains.
if you looked outside today you'd see a good many cumulus clouds-- puffy and white with a tinge of blue at the edges. they remind me of my cloud watching on those summer days long ago, their presence a tease-- of possibility, of hope for building into something more substantial. puffy and white, not a chance of rain but with a tinge of blue deepening to a solid gray, came a better chance. if, and only if it started to rain, or with the threat of thunder and lightening, did i get to knock off early, throwing that old deere into road gear, hoping to outrace the coming storm to the house.
the panhandle, even with recent rainfalls, remains it's driest since the 1950's. and so on days like today i take up again the habit of my youth. i watch the clouds, hoping for cumulus, praying that this round is something more than pretenders; that these will build, climbing high, becoming heavy and too weary to hold their treasure any longer, losing their grip, spilling rain onto a thirsty and grateful land below. maybe today will be the day. i certainly hope so. if not today, perhaps tomorrow. i'll be keeping an eye to the sky, just in case. aio
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