The sky is gray and the ground is wet here at the Chicken Ranch today. The sun is no where to be seen. It is not gloomy, however. I'm somehow cheered by the cold drops of rain falling in a steady drumbeat upon the roof. It is altogether fitting that this day should be cool and subdued. It is autumn. It is October. It is grand.
The rain falls steadily upon the trees and earth. These days the trees are increasingly turning colorful. The varying types of trees loosen their hold on the canopy and send random confetti showers to the waiting ground beneath them. Moistened leaves succumb to the wind and the weight of the raindrops. Flying past the window in an aerobatic display, some of the chlorophyll-starved remnants of summer foliage stick to the window. They slide down the pane before being lifted away again by the cool autumn wind. A streak in the midst of a thousand round raindrops is all that's left to indicate their short visit.
Larry, the barn cat, hugs tightly to the base of a large Hard Maple tree. He is stranded momentarily as a groaning thunder produces a short cloudburst of rain. He waits for the chance to sprint to the wood shed where a pile of warm dry straw in the corner will soak the wet and chill from his tan and white fur. He was likely trying to spend some time away from Bart, the tabby kitten, whose rambunctious behavior gets on Larry's nerves occasionally.
This rain will set the harvest back a bit. The brown fields of acre after acre of grains have been sites of scurrying activity of late. Tractors, combines, wagons and trucks have been moving at a frenetic pace to gather the millions of bushels of corn and beans that come from some of the most productive farm land on planet earth.
Corn shucks fly through the air in a dizzying dance of tan and brown. Often a whirlwind captures the corn shucks producing a mini tornado that pirouettes across the landscape like a dirty ghost. Shucks blow across the road in front of drivers; looking for all the world like a parade of sea horses hurrying to who knows where.
Harvesting beans creates dust, and a lot of it. Sometimes, when it is very dry, the dust from a bean field being harvested is so great that it obscures the roads around it. Drivers have to slow down and turn on their headlights at times, until a breeze finally lifts the dust and clears the road again. But not today.
All the ground is dark and wet and the roads are glistening clean. Rain settles the dust and washes the red, green, and blue implements setting idle in the fields. Halloween pumpkins and multi-hued gourds look shiny as moisture rolls over and through the canyons of their skins. The leaves blanket the ground in a wet quilt that is added to, layer by layer, as the water continues to coax more and more trees to begin giving up their summer cover.
The sun will return in a day or two and harvest will return to its beehive-like frenzy. But, for today, there is a pleasant quietness that abounds. As I listen to drops of water dancing now on the tin roof of the back porch, coffee cup in hand, I am very content to soak up this time of cool dampness. There is a peace to this moisture laden morning that transcends the hustle and bustle of summers end. There is a joy that comes with the muted thunder and gentle storms of Fall. The rainfall of a Fall rain is a special kind of experience indeed.
There is nothing quite like an October rain.
