My grandfather used to say if you wanted it to rain, just let him cut hay. Invariably, between cutting and baling, at least a little rain would fall.  

Sometimes it was a random pop-up storm that, despite a seven-day forecast with a lot of 0 percent days, brought a deluge to his hayfields. Other years an equipment malfunction delayed the process and rains fell with hay on the ground. He was also a pastor, and to be honest, church commitments were at times the roadblock that prevented him from getting hay up before a front moved in. 

Some years it was just hard to believe his bad luck. 

This year, my father and uncles couldn’t believe their good fortune when they cut, raked, and baled all the hay without so much as a sprinkle. Although in hindsight, their stroke of luck now seems more like a bad omen. Not a drop of rain has fallen since.

It’s been a while since we’ve had such a dry summer. Since early June, the few showers we’ve had in the Midsouth have been very hit or miss. The last good rain at my house was June 8. I know many of your fields are sorely needing it. On my last trip through Northeast Arkansas, the pivots and pipes were running hard and ahead of schedule. 

For anyone who farms, or grew up around farming, weather is more than a conversation starter. You learn to pay attention to the weather to make those crucial decisions, plan for the week ahead, and, as a kid, maybe just to anticipate the mood at the dinner table. 

I would write more about weather in this column, but I was burned pretty good by a weather commentary during my first few months at Delta Farm Press.  

You see, there is a little lag between me writing this column and it being posted online. An even longer lag before it arrives in your mailbox in our print edition. Long enough for some pretty dramatic weather shifts. 

An early column where I lamented the lack of snowfall was immediately followed by a multi-state blizzard. You may have read the article — if you were able to get to your mailbox for the large snowdrifts blocking your driveway. 

It seemed I may have inherited my grandfather’s timing when it came to weather. I wrote off commentaries on the subject then and there. But this week I got to thinking maybe I could use my bad luck for good. A little reverse psychology on Mother Nature. Perhaps writing about dry weather can summon a good shower as it seemed cutting hay back home always did.

So, I hope when you’re reading this there is rain in the gauge, maybe even a little mud in the fields. And that your first thought is “Why is she writing about a drought?”