As the dry, oppressive heat of July merges into August, we all hope for some rain to quench the thirsty ground beneath our feet.
I haven’t always lived here, but this past July was the hottest and dryest that I can recall in recent years. The word drought keeps popping up. Voluntary water restrictions in surrounding towns were posted. The Shoemaker River near my house was reduced from a creek to a veritable dribble. My grandson and I could walk the rocky creek bed, watching tiny fish swimming from puddle to puddle with the help of connecting streams of water. The crayfish were easy to find, as were fossil rocks that were usually hidden below deep cascading waters.
Local vernal pools were dried up, our own pond was a foot or two lower.
But despite the lack of rain, and the crunchy grass, some wildflowers needed no help from rain to flourish! My favorite Queen Anne’s Lace was growing in abundance along roadsides, and in my Charlotte’s pig pen! The vibrant blue of chicory, the Civil War coffee substitute, dots the fields and roadsides. Hibiscus Trionum (flower-of-an-hour) decorates my veggie garden where all else I planted failed to sprout. That, and bindweed, whose tenacious nature is the bane of my existence! Toxic Jimson Weed boldly pops up in the middle of the gravel walkway, flowering without the need of life-giving rain.
The horses make good use of the barn fans, as temperatures neared 100 degrees. Even my heat loving donkey, Yoshi, stood under a fan, hanging his head down in the stall corner, with a total Eeyore expression of “Oh, bother…”
The chickens would stand with wings out, panting from the heat. I would put out pans of extra water, and ice bottles as chicken air conditioners. Invariably, they would cool their feet in their water bowls, instead of, or along with, the big pan I put out for them. So muddy water had to be constantly changed.
I let one persistent hen, Opal Crow, go broody. Her sister hens added to her clutch of eggs, until she amassed 10 that just fit under her. With the ongoing heat, I thought for sure she would be incubating fried eggs. Then one day, right on schedule, some tiny peeping sounds emerged from under her wing. One teeny yellow chick, the size of a silver dollar, peeked out. What have I done! Opal Crow was quite proud, but now I had to make the nursery pen ready. My daughter and I moved her to temporary housing in a large dog crate. Free range is not an option here, too many predators. Hawks, eagles, fox, and raccoons frequent the area. I recently lost 2 silkie roosters and a favorite hen to a weasel or fisher cat. The opening it used to get in, has been repaired. The game cam has been set up. Out of 10 eggs under Opal, only 5 are viable, so we await the hatching of 4 more. Since they were laid at different times, not sure when the other babies will arrive. Opal Crow was not too upset by the move. She tucked the remaining eggs back underneath her, and resumed mothering her single tiny baby.
So, as August progresses, with some rain that the end of July graced us with, we can hope for a greener end of summer, more rain, and a decent 2nd cutting of hay! School starts way too soon, and it seems like we now need to cram in the rest of the things we wanted to do, that heat prevented!
Enjoy your August, along with the Bergton Fair and the Rockingham and Shenandoah County Fairs.
All is well here, at Mountain Meadows, this warm summer morning…….
