Visits

Visits

Our friend from way, way back has been our houseguest since last Thursday, but has gone home now. She brought the rain with her, I'm afraid, and endured six days of it almost non-stop. That meant no fishing expeditions. We did get to watch a lot of hummingbirds and refill a lot of feeders, from two to four gallons a day the whole week. We had many lunch and dinner parties with neighbors while she was here. Now it's back to the quiet, solitary life that my husband and I -- two confirmed hermits -- normally live.

Our guest didn't take the rain with her; it's still in the forecast through this weekend. On Sunday, though, we're expected to receive our first true cool front of the season. (I can't call it a cold front, because it will only drop the overnight lows into the lower 70s.) The temperature here varies only slightly from season to season and from year to year. What does vary is the rainfall. In Houston, we could expect to receive over 50 inches a year almost every year. Here, the annual total rainfall reaches an average of between 30 and 35 inches only when you consider wild swings in both directions from year to year. Several years ago, we got 55 inches in one five-month period. Last year we had less than 15 inches all year, but this year we're at 50 inches after only the first nine months. The native plants are ready for nearly anything.

The horrible recent drought, which devastated the whooping cranes that are so much a part of our county's raison d'etre, has so impressed itself on our collective memories that we almost superstitiously avoid complaining about this year's extraordinary rainfall. We only wish we'd had the budget for another cistern, so we could get through a longer drought next time without having to fall back on the rather nasty well water. There's nothing like a reliable source of good water to give us a feeling of security.

I hear the rain starting again. God bless the rain and give us grateful hearts for it.