Sunday morning rain

By CHRISTINE TAILER
HCP columnist

I had planned to weed the asparagus bed, that I have not touched for well over a month.

Greg claims that he can still find the occasional small asparagus shoot that he snaps off for snacking as he makes his way over to the cherry tomatoes, but I wonder how he could see anything past the dense chickweeds.

With all the rain it has been a wonderful year for growing the delicate weed. I can’t figure out though, why he passes over the weeds. He could easily pick off a few of the young leaves and wrap them around an asparagus shoot, or even a cherry tomato.

The raw leaves have a taste somewhat like white corn silk. Greg could even gather up a handful of the leaves, and I could steam them for dinner as an almost spinach-like side. But it is not the chickweeds that I mean to share with you today. It is the creek valley rain.

This morning, I woke up to a day blanketed by a grey sky. The first thing I did, as I do every morning, was look out the loft window.

Even though the sky was the color of the creek’s gray clay, the valley’s trees and the field past the goat yard were a beautiful deep green. As I watched, a gentle rain began to fall.

No need to rush to do the chores, I thought to myself. I lingered at the window as the chickens slowly made their way up the field, under the goat yard gate and into the shed.

The goats were already inside. One goat stood at the door, seeming to count the chickens as they passed inside. I turned from the window as the sleeping dog by the side of our bed stretched and then lay quiet. Greg was still sound asleep. I quietly made my way downstairs and put on the coffee, and it was not until the warm aroma of steaming coffee made its way up to the loft that Greg came downstairs with a smile.

I knew that he had planned to spend the day finishing up the four-season greenhouse. All that remained to be done was to put on the corners and do some caulking.

Granted, the passive heat collector still needed to be built, and the solar powered fans installed, but the building itself was almost complete, and I knew that Greg was looking forward to getting this project behind him. And I really was looking forward to making sense out of that asparagus bed.

“It is raining,” Greg said.

“Yes,” I replied as thunder rolled across the creek valley, “Perhaps it would be a good day to just relax.” He quickly agreed.

So we slowly sipped our coffee and even agreed to indulge in a second cup. Breakfast dishes done, I began to putter about the cabin, sweeping and dusting, while Greg went outside to do the animal chores. Chores completed, we settled in to “just relax.”

I read a book. Greg cleaned his leatherman tool and then cruised the Internet. About two hours passed us by. I looked up from my book and marked my place. Greg looked up from his lap-top computer. He began to shut it down. I closed my book. Greg put his computer away.

The gentle rain still fell. Thunder still rolled across the creek valley, but there were things that needed to be done. Things that we actually wanted to do and enjoyed doing, even in the rain.

It occurred to us both that we really needed a whole lot more practice at “just relaxing.”

Perhaps next time we would try for two and a half or maybe even three hours, but for now, hats and rain jackets on, we were off into the day outside. I could not help but notice the wonderful smell of rain-soaked mint as I walked down the cabin’s front steps.