It rained a lot last week. Days and days. Even last night a thunderstorm rolled through.
Our dog is a barometer. We always know a thunderstorm is on its way when Blackie slinks in, makes his way to the bathroom and hides in the bathtub. Blackie hates lightening. He hates gun shots. He also hates fireworks, but that is another story for another blog post.
We have a funny story about Blackie. You see, Blackie loves Mason, the dog two doors down. He also loves Lisa, Mason's human. One late spring day, Lisa was puttering about in her house. She went into the bathroom and heard heavy breathing. Her pulse quickened. She just knew she had discovered an intruder and was wondering what to do when she then heard the thump, thump, thump of a tail. Blackie's tail. He had entered the house via Mason's doggy door and made his way to her bathtub to wait out the thunderstorm. Behind her shower curtain.
Thank goodness she didn't have a heart attack! Or shoot first and ask questions later!
He has spent more than a few days trembling in the bathtub recently.
I, on the other hand, absolutely love thunderstorms. The horribly heavy prestorm air makes everyone on edge. But then comes the breeze. You hear it first. Actually, you see the rain in the west, grey sheets on the hills down the valley. THEN you hear the breeze in the neighbor's trees. Leaves tremble, just like Blackie, anticipating the coming storm. The feel of the air changes. The sticky skin cools. Even as a shadow falls over the sky, heavy spirits lift. A honey smell of rain permeates the air and a muffled boom rolls through the vally. The sprinkles splatter and splash on clucking chickens, docile sheep and dashing goats (running to the barn-they hate to get wet.) Someone rushes to get the clothes off the line. I stand on the deck as long as I can, breathing the charged air in in hungry gulps.
Crack! Boom! We count the seconds to determine how distant is the storm. Unplug the computer. Listen to the sheets of rain pounding our farm. Wonder if the power if going to go out. Seldom does.
We are grateful for the rain. It has come often this spring.
We haven't been able to finish making hay. Tractor troubles came at a bad time. Josh and Laura came over and Josh gave Philip some tips. I think the tractor works now. Unfortunately, the fields are soaked. We must wait til things dry out. The hay is past its prime. Must be cut anyway. Maybe we will get a second cutting this year.
This past week we did other things besides weed the garden. We did weed a little bit, but had to tend to other things instead. Argggh. They are totally out of control. At least they seem out of control. We haven't mulched yet. We are waiting for plants to grow a bit so we can put down a heavy layer of newspaper and straw mulch. We got a lot done this afternoon and will work more tomorrow. The bottom of the garden is still way too wet to plant tomatoes and peppers and okra. Sometimes a task seems so monumental one wants to give up. Why bother? Do I have what it takes? It is too hard!
I doubt King Solomon weeded many gardens. Sometimes I wish I had a few of his hired workers to help me tend my gardens! Nevertheless, he had some great words of wisdom that give me pause.
"Naked a man comes from his mother's womb, and as he comes, so he departs.
He takes nothing from his labor that he can carry in his hand.
This too is a grievous evil:
As a man comes, so he departs, and what does he gain, since he toils for the wind?
All his days he eats in darkness, with great frustration, affliction and anger.
Than I realized that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him-for this is his lot.
Moreover, when God gives any man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them,
to accept his lot and be happy in his work-this is a gift of God.
He seldom reflects on the days of his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart."
When I am tired and overwhelmed I want to complain. I want someone to pat me on the back and commiserate. I want to go read a book and pretend like the weeds will all go away on their own. But what I really want is to follow Solomon's prescription. This is my lot. We are so blessed to have work that is healthy and sane and productive. I think that this week I am going to pray that our household would accept our lot and be happy in our work. I will pray that we will find satisfaction and joy in our toilsome labor of pulling weeds. I will pray that we will eat and drink and glorify God in the imperfect way we run the farm.