In Which All Is Wet

When my Dad landed, he mentioned that the forecast was for rain on Wednesday. "Yes," I said, "but usually we'll have a twenty minute rain and then it dries out."

So when it began to sprinkle as I headed for bed on Tuesday, that was no big deal. The rain will wear itself out by morning.

Wednesday morning, we awoke to a steady rainfall. Accuweather predicted it would end by 9am, which, again, seemed reasonable.

Except Accuweather was totally wrong. At times the rain would seem to relent, only to return in a downpour. The inch when we awoke turned into four inches when we went to bed.

Rain as assault.

Did any of our seeds stay on the tilled slope, or did they wash away? How much of the precious garden topsoil washed away in such a deluge?

We can't affect the rain, and so we accept it, as we must. But, oh, it is disappointing to be dry for two weeks before such a heavy rainfall.

In the midst of the rain, the county forester came to walk the land with us. For about three hours, we tromped around. Dad's land and ours has some Virginia pine (good for pulp) ready for harvesting down in the bottom land. Dad's land has some invasive species, mostly right on the edge of the woods, bordering the neighbor's pasture, but most of the understory is running cedar, a sign of good moisture and good fertility.

We could turn the pines on our land to pasture. The pines on Dad's land could go to persimmon and blueberry, or just to regular, successional growth.

A bit further up Dad's slope is a stand of loblolly pine that will be ready for harvesting in about ten years. The forester seemed impressed with the size and quality of the stand.

A bit further up the slope on our land is maturing hardwood forest. Because the natural succession of growth has pines before hardwoods, Dad asked the forester how long it would take, once he cleared out his pines, for his young hardwoods to mature to the hardwoods on our land. "Forty or fifty years," the forester said, "but these hardwoods could grow another thirty years before they will be ready."

Which, I suppose, is hopeful, in some ways. We've spent our retirement money to start a farm. Perhaps when it's time for retirement, the farm will offer additional streams of income. It could be! And which, I suppose, teaches me not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.

Phil was also surprised and interested to hear that poplar is one of the money trees, right up with white oak. He's been cutting down the fast growing poplars to use as lumber for our greenhouse. I don't know that he would have done anything differently, as the few trees he took down were in awkward places, rather far from where we'd want timber equipment, but it is helpful to know, going forward.

By the time we got back, I could wring out my shirt bottom (it must have peeked out from under my waterproof jacket, and gradually wicked up the rainwater), but we had been informed and given some good direction on what to do with the forest, the largest portion of our land.