Dear Friends and Family,

Yesterday it rained. Finally. Forty-five glorious minutes of honest-to-God rain. I stood in my kitchen doorway watching it fall on our parched fields and crops. I could almost hear the thousand broccoli plants (which had survived the killing freeze earlier this season) sucking down the moisture. They've been in suspended animation for the past two weeks. Just at the time we were expecting to harvest a delicious crop they just stopped developing, except for the occasional small head popping up here and there.

Our pastures of lush clover have turned so dry the plants crunch as you walk on them. Our sheep have been breaking through fences to search for something green. Blue Bell and her calf spend lots of time just walking, nose down, in search of any tender bit of green hiding in dry grasss. A couple of times we supplied treats of bolted lettuce from beds that needed to be replanted. One day they were eating the weeds I was pulling from a bed near the pasture fence.

Sasha brings gallons of water every day to a group of tadpoles stranded in a shrinking patch of moisture in their dry creek. Robin and Paul are having to prime and re-prime the pump to bring water up from the bottom of their well. Yesterday I did some of the pumping. I could not believe how hard it was to push the lever down each time to get that flow of water up to the mouth of the pump. If I did not allow it to come all the way back up before I pushed back down, the flow of water diminished. Usually the pumping gets easier once you get going. I can even do it one-handed. Not yesterday. I had to use both arms each time. Got me thinking about how much I take for granted when I turn on my faucet and water flows out (most of the time). My electric pump falters now and again but most of the time I don't even have to think about the work it takes to draw water 20 feet out of the ground.

Needless to say we are still in drought conditions. What is amazing to me is how much plants respond to even a small bit of needed moisture. Fields are temporarily greener. Crops and flowers look fresher. For us the rain was a much needed psychological boost as well. Over the past several weeks we've had our hopes raised and dashed many times. Showers in the forecast. Gusty winds arrive ahead of dark clouds. A few drops of rain begin to fall. The clouds float past. Spirits sink.

Ironically, until last week, the weather has been very pleasant. Sunny hot days with cool breezes. Cool nights. We would remark to one another about the "great weather", then add but not so good for the crops. The build-up of moisture from the usually high humidity here seems part of the cycle that brings rain. It arrived last week, stressing humans and animals, but, we trust, bringing rain. Meanwhile, butterfly weed is brilliantly orange and abundant. Also black-eyed susans. Nodding thistle, 4 feet high, with great big reddish purple heads, is flourishing.

Earlier this month Java and Nutmeg spotted a rattlesnake near my deck. I was reading when I became aware that both of them had become very alert. I got up to see what might be so interesting. At first I saw what looked like a small black snake, but as I watched there came out into the sunlight a large brown and black patterned snake. As they continued to stalk it the snake snapped into a spiral with a good sized rattle buzzing away at the center. I grabbed my broom to push them away from the snake. Nutmeg hid under my car. Java circled round and came back again toward the snake. Luckily Sasha had called just after I saw the snake so I knew Paul was on his way over from their place. When he arrived with Sasha and two of our interns we took a few minutes to assess the situation. I reported that in all the time Java was stalking him the snake was rattling furiously but never made a strike at her. On the other hand we didn't want a rattler so close to my house. So Paul decapitated it with a heavy hoe. Then he took the opportunity to study the head and to point out the viper characteristics to Sasha and the interns. (I found I really didn't want to go near it). My reptile book confirmed a neighbor's identification: a timber rattler. Since we've not seen rattlers here before we are assuming that he must have fallen off one of the many truckloads of logs that have been recently gone past here.

Yesterday the farm lunch included Napa cabbage, grilled zucchini and summer squash, and Chioggia beets. I had to have a second helping of those wonderfully sweet beets. What a contrast to my student days in Philadelphia when I thought the "Harvard" beets at the Horn and Hardart automat were the best there were.

I hope each of you are enjoying some summery fare. Love, Louise