The Chicken Ranch is parched. Dry, dusty,thirsty, and faded. The extremely dry conditions in the Midwest are further complicated by record high temperatures that hover around 100 daily. Independence Day here is usually an annual explosion of color, not only from fireworks above, but also from the gardens below. Purple, gold, red, orange, violet, white and more are the colors surrounding the Chicken Ranch house gardens on three sides, in a typical July summer that is. We do have some blooms where the sun isn't quite so prevalent, and these blooms brighten the spots where they live. But, this year our plants are not robust with vivid greens and bunches of multicolored blooms, instead they have the faded and brown-edged look of plants in survival mode. And some are barely surviving.
This extreme summer has required lots of irrigation.Three to four hundred gallons a week of water is carried to flower and vegetable gardens here at the Chicken Ranch. It's a lot of water, but it isn’t rain. Nothing quenches the thirst of nature like God-given rain does. When rain comes, the leaves of many plants form a cup to capture every drop. Some plants reach out and bow before the rain, as in a posture of gratitude and recognition of the life giving ability of the water. The sun baked earth, that is hard as rock, is softened by a slow and gentle rain. Each drop eases the hardness and convinces the dirt.The soil opens and breathes, and tightly twisted leaves and petals relax and sigh in relief.
Sadly, gentle all night soakers just aren’t happening this year. Too many times the pop up storms that come are fast, furious downpours that hit the concrete-hard soil and then just run off to the streams and ditches. Such rain puts some much needed water in dry rivers, but little in the soil where shriveled roots are begging for moisture.
Speaking of rivers,the Sangamon River near us winds through the central part of the state. It floods several times a year. Last year it stayed out of its banks so long that a bridge project was delayed 6 months. As of this writing, you can walk across it at almost any point. Old folks in this area say the river hasn't been this consistently dry since the 1930's. And they always add "we could use a few days of rain". When we are fortunate enough to get a little gentle rain we face another foe, the wind.
Sadly, gentle all night soakers just aren’t happening this year. Too many times the pop up storms that come are fast, furious downpours that hit the concrete-hard soil and then just run off to the streams and ditches. Such rain puts some much needed water in dry rivers, but little in the soil where shriveled roots are begging for moisture.
Speaking of rivers,the Sangamon River near us winds through the central part of the state. It floods several times a year. Last year it stayed out of its banks so long that a bridge project was delayed 6 months. As of this writing, you can walk across it at almost any point. Old folks in this area say the river hasn't been this consistently dry since the 1930's. And they always add "we could use a few days of rain". When we are fortunate enough to get a little gentle rain we face another foe, the wind.Thankfully, we have escaped the terrible devastation of fires that have ravaged other dry states. As a precaution though, many counties here are putting a lid on outdoor burning. Dry cornfields can cause a horrible conflagration. Wheat fields are excellent tinder.Wind and fire could, of course, do miles of damage as flames would hop from field to field.
Wells at some farms are reaching their limits and water rationing is growing common. Some gardens and flowers have to be sacrificed for the needs of livestock and humans.
While some weather centers have not yet moved middle and western Illinois into the drought category, most all of them call the area we live in “severely dry”, with “drought conditions” being the next stage. With todays temperature at 103 degrees and a prediction of 104 tomorrow, and no rain in sight, we are far closer to danger than not.
We’ll make do here, as we’ve done in the past. Whether we’re buried under piles of snow or burning up like we are now, folks do the best they can. We will continue to carry water as long as there is hope of keeping plants alive, and as long as we have the water available to carry. We’ll keep ice in the freezer and in our glasses, and count on southern sweet tea to cool us on the inside. We’ll watch the sky for any hopeful sign that rain will come and save the day.
As we sit on the back porch looking at the Chicken Ranch that's wrapped in faded greens and browns, we will remind ourselves of other states where black is all that’s left of some homes and ranches.We know that we are not alone in longing for a good rain. The entire Midwest is suffering from heat and drought. The more western states are worse yet. I asked an old farmer I met in the farm store the other day, if he remembered a summer starting out like this before. He looked at the floor and nodded at his boots. Then he looked up... "dust bowl" is all he said.
While we're not in a dust bowl yet, it's dry enough to put folks to thinking about it. Meanwhile, we'll keep watering until it looks futile and lookin for rain till it comes. We'll be glad that its not worse, and wash our worries away for awhile with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade or tea. In fact, I hear that pitcher of tea calling me right now. Y'all stay cool if you can and, if you have any extra rain where you are, send it our way. We'd appreciate it.
Dry lake bed where the boys caught large stranded bass.
If you're ever near the Chicken Ranch, stop in. Patty's a great hostess and the chickens are friendly.
