We got rained out again at the farm on Saturday. I don’t think I’ve ever been caught in that much rain before. In the five seconds it took to run to the truck and find my hat, I was completely soaked to the skin. Ethan resorted to making a rain shelter for Clothilde on his back out of old oat bags:
She stayed mostly dry, even though we were soaking wet. But wet doesn’t even begin to describe it. Not even soaking wet. Sopping, maybe. The lightening stayed several miles away, but it was scary when it flashed overhead and I would count the seconds until the earth-shaking boom.
Ethan and Clothilde had taken a long nap on Saturday afternoon, so we didn’t get out to do the chores until late. We couldn’t just wait the storm out in the truck because it was starting to get dark. It didn’t really start to rain until after I was done milking Matilda and went to get the goats, running barefoot through standing water and jumping over blackberry bushes because it was so wet my shoes wouldn’t stay on. The goats didn’t want to come out from under their tree and took a lot of coaxing (and yelling through the driving rain).
It was one of those miserable why-are-we-doing-this days when we were so glad to stop battling the elements and retreat. Where is our dry fall season? I’m sure the pastures and garden were very happy for it at least.