Here’s why we celebrated today:
Thirty delicious (mostly unpredicted) millimetres of rain. We’re guessing 30mm. Normally we can guess the amount before we even go out to the rain gauge. One or two mills wets the deck. Five will put a puddle in the driveway. And if there’s a puddle over near the gate, we must have had ten.
The rain gauge out the back hasn’t been one of the most useful items on the farm over the last ten years. But it’s like health insurance, you probably have to have it. But in the middle of the night last night, amongst claps of thunder and surrounded by flashes of lightning that illuminated the entire sky, Anthony went outside in the rain to check the gauge.
It’s like peeking at the cake in the oven before its done. You just want to be sure it’s cooking. That it’s looking good.
‘How much?’ I asked when he came back in.
‘There’s a golf ball in the rain gauge.’
Blackie is obsessed with fetching golf balls. We’re trying to break the habit for him a little and teach him that there are other good things in life, by removing the ball after play. Put it somewhere out of his reach is our advice to the girls.
Anyway, we didn’t need to measure this rain. We just knew it was good. Farmers in the district have started sowing crops. The kids in the district probably probably spent today doing this:
I hope your weekend and the rain at your place was this good: