WORDS BY:
Shawn & Beth Dougherty
Water Like a Blessing IT'S A WARM JUNE DAY, but I’m watching rain clouds in the west and wondering if they’re coming our way. Especially in June, the arrival of a shower may have us either giving thanks or wringing our hands—or both. If there’s hay on the ground, we want those clouds to make a wide berth around us and not spoil it. On the other hand, if we’ve just planted corn, we’re hoping for a good soaking to set the seed firmly in the soil and discourage crows, who delight in pulling up sprouts. I bring my attention down to the soil at my feet. Here in our kitchen garden, a heavy rain will wash away the chard and beets we’ve just planted. But the clouds are far away, and in any case, the last of the springsown greens definitely need water. I reach for the big watering can.
The Blessing of Water In farming, water is so important it almost defines our relationship with a place. Certainly, when we came to northern Appalachia thirtythree years ago, water almost made us leave; eventually, water is what made us stay. Despite only moderate average rainfall, these hills are wet. When we bought our century-old farmhouse, the only running water was in the basement after a rain, pouring through holes in the foundation and out by the door. Outside, showers often interfered with our farming; in haying season, we seldom got the three days’ dry weather that is the minimum for putting up cured hay. But when we remembered the long dry season in our native Southwest and the periodic monsoon rains that challenged our early homesteading years, temperate-zone Appalachia looked pretty attractive. Finally, it was the abundant ponds, streams, and springs
PLAIN VALUES
JUNE 2023
39
