Taking Things As They Come: Week #1 – 6/12/19

 In CSA Newsletter

Last Tuesday Mike, myself, and his buddy Trey were at the house playing cards. A storm rolled in and we went outside on the porch to watch.

The rain was coming down steady, but not too hard. Then lightning was stretching across the sky horizontally, flashing our faces bright. Together we stood silently, watching the storm.

The edge of the advancing storm cloud was right in our line of sight, and was strangely backlit by Madison’s light pollution. You could see the distinct round dips and valleys of the cloud’s edge. It was breath-taking.

Mike (who is sometimes prone to drama around predicting weather conditions) says, “That’s a funnel cloud!” I laugh at him and say, “No way. That’s just the edge of the cloud.”

We bicker back and forth for a second.  Then Mike goes inside to get his phone to see if there are any weather warnings. There is a severe thunderstorm warning listed, with potential hail.

I would have told him I told you so, but the minute I heard the word hail, I was already walking to the door to get my boots on.

Trey watched as Mike and I quickly shifted out of mellow storm watching mode, to farm protection mode. You see, sitting outside the greenhouse were tables of plants staged and ready to be transplanted: peppers, tomatoes, celeriac, broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce… We wanted to get them inside as quickly as possible to prevent any possible damage.

At this point it’s about 10:45, already past my bedtime. My adrenaline is pumping though I’m still really wishing I was putting on my pjs instead of my boots.

Trey asked, “Isn’t it kind of exciting? You know getting out there and saving your plants from a storm as it’s coming towards you?”

I was feeling pretty tired so I answered, “Eh, I don’t know…”

Fast-forward a few minutes and Mike and I are racing around moving flats of plants, firing up the skid steer and moving tables instead. All the while it’s pouring down and I’m listening to how far the thunder follows the streaks of light across the sky, making sure I don’t run out into the open when it’s too near.

It was exciting. The sky was gorgeous. I could remember so many times that we’ve done this over the last 14 years, always at night and with our hearts pounding. And the memories aren’t negative, they are deeply joyful.

There’s something somehow sacred about the bond that my husband and I share that’s present particularly during those moments. It’s just him and I doing what we can together, quietly, knowingly, hurriedly against the storm.

Trey was right. And I so appreciated being reminded to look at it in the positive.

Thanks for reading and enjoy your veggies!
Farmer Cassie