Part I -Stick in the Mud
Actually, stuck in the mud is a more accurate description of how this weekend left me. Car tires stuck in the mud with wilted looking farm animals frolicking, literally, frolicking around us. If ever there were an appropriate time to use that word, this is it.
Lemme back up.
You see, in our overzealous desire to set the land on fire, we woke up quite early to begin burning with the goal of finishing off most of the piles by sundown. All of this planning took place without regard to the weather, which is silly since it’s May and we know better. Therefore, when ominous clouds rolled in above our nicely burning piles, we just shrugged and assumed it would blow over without so much as a rumble and drizzle. Because, hey, there’s always the 50/50 chance around these parts that low black clouds will only block the sun (the other 50% of the time they, of course, lead to tornadoes and total devastation, but why be pessimistic?)
After using his well-honed meteorological skills, Jer determined that the clouds would blow over and bring in a pleasant cool front for the rest of the day. Cool front? Check. Blow over?
Hmmmm….
Lo and behold, what began as a nice little spit soon turned into a torrential downpour complete with high winds, continuous lightening, grape sized rain drops – you know – you’re average “indoor weather.” This was our first real rain to witness at the land, which isn’t that important, except it educated us about a few essential pieces of information: 1) Our clay based soil does not absorb water; 2) Our location partially on a hill and partially downhill equates to fast rivers (really. rivers!) of water over the majority of the property; 3) These two nuggets – combined – mean that car tires sink quickly amidst rushing water. OOPS.
Since I have my priorities straight, I made a beeline to the car (while it visibly sank) in order to retrieve our carefully packed lunch. In perilous situations, you can be sure I’ll remember to eat. I sprinted up the hill with the precious meal and soggy dogs in tow, while Jer stood watch over the fire that somehow refused to de-flame in the downpour. The purple shed, which I once again was thankful for having, has a large overhang under which I managed to eat lunch. Keep in mind, the shed is slightly on the downhill side of the property and water began to pool around my toes, my ankles…you get the point.
Just as the storm seemed to retreat, it would quickly build energy again and the water, oh my, the water was now completely around my ankles and encircling the bodies of my shivering dogs who were attempting to sleep through the storm on top of piles of old hay.
Jeremy soon appeared on Bambi and reported that the fire had only just sputtered out after what had been 30 minutes of a hard rain. He also asked why I didn’t save him a sandwich. Apparently I am a nervous eater.
Our plan to burn for the day was over just when it started, and we loaded the mud-covered dogs into Jeremy’s car (which miraculously was not stuck) and decided to sell the land and move into an apartment.