Don't get excited. This is NOT a picture from this year. I took it several years ago, in the fall, while we were walking in the Caney Refuge.
This year is so different. High temperatures during the day. Wind. Dry air. Blue skies. And not a hint of rain.
Several places near and far from us have had moisture in the past few weeks. Some have had even a few inches of rain. But not up here on my hill in Luna. The rain moves around us in successive bursts of action. We can see it coming up in the southwest, down by town, swinging up to the north over Caney, then across to Zanoni and on to Dora. Or down to the east, across the Bryant where it dumps its load of rain on fishermen and canoeists.
As I went for my walk today, I found that it is dry as can be up here in south-suburban Luna. The armadillos are frantic in their search for food. They have made the patch where we planted turnips a plowed field...scratching and digging in the dry powder and piling up the earth in mounds that cover the boundaries of our cane patch. The deer found our squash. They kicked holes in the huge gourds and ate the silky moist flesh, full of water and seeds. We saved a few but not much remains.
Our ponds are sinking down below the level they have held all summer. If we have any fish left, they are destined to be a meal for an enterprising predator.
Grass crunches under my boots when I walk across the field in the early morning coolness. And when I scuff my toe around a bush or little tree, puffs of smokey earth rise up to cover my shoe.
Even the grass is a different color. It is losing its green sheen. Rather than turning brown, it looks grey and dull.
I listened to the weather news today. They are predicting rain for next week. I have heard that before. Hopefully it will give us a good soaking.
But for now I will wait and see...missing the bare hint of color in the trees across the valley...missing the shadows of green under the oak trees...the clear blue sky reflected in my ponds....red leaves littering the road....the way fall should be. But this is a different kind of fall.
Patience, my heart says. Patience. And perhaps a good rain will bring my hill to life again.
