2 minute read
Drugath
Drugath
By Chris Patusky
Drought”, from the Old English word “drugath”, meaning dryness. I like that word, drugath.
Maybe they should have kept it as it was. We are suffering drugath. It sounds epic, dreadful, an irresistible force that thrashes landscapes and denies sustenance to civilizations.
Drugath. A word worthy of a supernatural adversary, a god or a goddess, whom we must call upon and convince through dance, song and sacrifice to throw down sheets from the sky to save us from “the dryness”. As it turns out, according to Wikipedia, there are seventeen rain deities roaming the western hemisphere. One of my favorite is Shotokunungwa, from the Hopi.
At a vineyard team meeting at Slater Run this year, as we approached harvest, we began to get concerned about the lack of rain. Sure, some drought is great for the vines, but this was getting out of hand. Kiernan and I considered whether we should appeal to Chaac, the Mayan rain god. But then, we worried that an appeal to one god or goddess might insult the others, leading to a cataclysmic fight in the skies above Upperville -- who is the greatest? -- ending all hope of getting a drop from them. Or worse still, it could inspire the wrath (another good Old English word derived, it seems, from wraeththu, wow, love that one), of all sixteen jealous deities, which could not end well for us below, unless, aha, unless there is some ingenious turnabout, perhaps a clever ruse that leads inexorably to a competition amongst all, each attempting to prove themself the greatest drencher, bringing joyous rains, but then, aghh, too much rain, catastrophe!
There must be a lesson in there somewhere. Perhaps it is to pray broadly and indefinitely, leading each deity to believe that they are the object of your attention and hope. Yes, that is it, that is most certainly my takeaway.
