Just returned from a trip to Brookings, where I visited the famed McCrory Gardens. On the way back, I had one of those encounters familiar to those who have driven for any length of time on the Plains–the, “Uh-oh–what am I driving into?” experience.
A big, draping curtain of clouds, with attendant swirls and curlicues that looked like possible beginnings to a tornadic funnel. I started scanning through the radio stations pretty much to no avail (apparently they think no one actually lives between Brookings and Sioux Falls). Finally settled on a Minnesota radio station advertising three separate tornado warnings–but only in their state.
I came out of the clouds and heavy rain (kept thinking, if it gets any worse, I’m pulling over–but where?) just north of Sioux Falls and settled into the rest of the drive, cruising 65 down the interstate with the heat and humidity blasting in the windows.
Stopped off at the gardens to do a little cuke harvesting–15 big ones and many more on the way–my crisper drawer is straining under the weight–and pulled into town about 4, jumping out of the truck and onto the computer to check our chances for some wet stuff.
Well, thunderstorms are likely–yes, they are. With possibility of attendant high winds and large hail. It’s dry out there, and though everything desperately wants water, I’m not giving it during the hottest part of the day–hard on the plants and on me, too. So, I’ll keep hoping the evening brings some storms, and then hoping those storms won’t bring the bad stuff with them.
Argh. Sometimes it’s stressful being a farmer. You worry when it rains; you worry when it doesn’t rain.