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I stood outside and watched the dark skies as the rumble of thunder echoed through the valley.
I checked the weather radar which indicated it was raining just over the hill. I could even see the mist in the distance.
We needed the rain. Thanks to a recent warm stretch and the lack of moisture, the lawn had turned yellow and brown. I was watering our flower and vegetable gardens to keep them growing in our sandy soil.
But the clouds lightened. The thunder stopped. Soon the sun was shining as another rain storm moved away.
Only a few weeks ago we had flooding in our part of the state, but that’s how quickly the weather can change. As of this writing our farm is officially in the abnormally dry category as defined by the National Weather Service, but parts of Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota are in a moderate to severe drought. Without rain we will be moving in the drought category – if we aren’t already in it.
The National Weather Service says since April 1 precipitation deficits have grown into the 2 to 7-inch range in northeast Iowa, 1 to 5-inch range in southeast Minnesota, and 3 to 6-inch range in southwest Wisconsin.
It didn’t help that we had some early summer temperatures, which averaged 3 to 6°F warmer than normal from May 25 through June 7, the National Weather Service says. That’s left the lawns looking more like August rather than early June.
As I looked to the skies for signs of rain, I was taken back 47 years ago to the summer of 1976. Our nation’s Bicentennial year was the third driest ever for our region of Wisconsin with only 17.47 inches of rain the entire year.
My brother Kevin, Dad and I were in the barn doing daily chores when the sound of thunder rolled through the valley. We stopped our chores to watch the storm roll in from the barn’s entryway where sacks full of feed grain provided the perfect observation points.
For a few moments, the heavens opened. A hard rain fell on the parched earth. I was happy because I knew that Dad was worried about the crops. We relished the sweet smell of the rain.
But after a few minutes, the rain slowed and stopped. Dad walked out and kicked the sand. It was wet on top, but dry underneath.
“Only four-tenths,” he said. “It’s not enough.”
The next year Dad borrowed money and had a high-capacity well drilled for a traveling gun irrigation system. A new farm chore emerged – carrying 20-foot sections of pipe through the woods. It was a two-person job – one man on each end of two pipes – and it took many hours. There was enough pipe to bring artificial rain nearly a mile away.
The last major drought was in 2013, which was a year of extremes. That May we had 8 inches of rain and then after July 1 had very little. From July 1 to Sept. 1 that year, only 2.4 inches of rain were measured in La Crosse.
That was also the year that hay prices soared. I had a good first and second cutting and had visions of selling all of our sheep so that I could sell several thousand small hay bales at $8 or $9 each and actually make some decent money.
We kept the sheep, of course, for a few more years.
The sheep are gone now, which is just as well as the pasture looks pretty bleak. I have enough hay to supplement the five animals we have left, but this will be a light hay year.
Last night it was drizzling when I went to bed. I woke up early with the hope of a wet morning.
But I went outside and saw we had barely enough to wet the ground.
I kicked the sand with my foot.
It’s not enough.
Chris Hardie spent more than 30 years as a reporter, editor
