Daily Local News (West Chester, PA)
Coping with a little rain
The car wipers thunkathunked again today on the way to the diner.
I knew one woman who loved the rain. That’s how she found her peace. She felt that falling water cleanses and purifies. Not me.
She would have told Alanis Morisette that “rain on your wedding day” was anything but ironic.
When seeking peace and quiet from behind the wheel, rain aggravates. It’s especially stressful when it drizzles. Even on delay, the wipers won’t operate slowly enough during a light rain. The windshield is often little more than a large opaque smear.
Sometimes rain is good. Those California redwoods grow so huge partly due to all that drizzle. Walking through those big trees feels like sitting in an otherwise empty cathedral. It’s oh-so calming and it’s easy to shrug the rain off. If only we didn’t have to eventually return to the car and then hit the wipers.
During Boy Scout campouts it seemingly always rained. Troop 151 was based at Penn Wood Elementary School and our leaders only purchased tents with no floors.
When camping, I simply slept on a plastic ground sheet that was no thicker than a garbage bag. Now I require a bit more padding. And I always ended up sleeping on a root, rock or with my head downhill, but we will save those stories for another column.
On one memorable campout, I awoke to find myself drenched in two inches of rainwater. My brother and tent mate was luckier and magically greeted the dawn while floating on an air mattress. Scout camping trips were always an adventure.
Listening to the pitterpatter of rain falling on a tent is divine. It’s the only thing good about sleeping outside in a thunderstorm.
My farmer buddy Dorene Pasekoff grows the finest asparagus and garlic in East Coventry Township at Hill Creek Farm.
She checks out the virtual weather forecast at least five times a day. Let’s just say she follows the weather very closely.
“I like rain when I need rain and I don’t like rain when I don’t need rain,” she told me.
She also said that walking through a field of tomatoes or onions after a shower can spread disease.
Pasekoff grows some stuff in a plastic greenhouse sort of thing she calls a high tunnel at Hill Creek Farm. She watches the forecast for high winds predictions so she can prepare and keep this fragile looking building from blowing away.
She also closely watches the rain gauge. Did we get a half inch on Tuesday and a quarter inch on Thursday? She prefers that about an inch of rain falls each week.
During droughts she irrigates, which takes time and fussing, while “something always springs a leak.”
Pasekoff said that during droughts farmers don’t just lose crops, but often harvest less.
“The plants have to survive, so the plant doesn’t put forth as much fruit or vegetables when it doesn’t rain,” she told me.
My favorite farmer sometimes personally interacts with meteorologists from the Capital Weather Gang, at the Washington Post. A quick gander at the site showed that Washington’s cherry blossoms are now at peak bloom.
“These guys explain things well,” she told me.
All of Pasekoff’s farm crew watch Shadow Weather closely for its weather radar and regular alerts.
“Especially in the summertime, stuff can come up quickly — big winds, thunderstorms,” she said. “We have to prepare for them or get the heck out of there,” Pasekoff said.
My favorite souvenir from a trip was purchased at a haberdasher in Seattle. Where else would you expect to stumble upon a hat store?
During that January week in Washington State, I was getting grumpier by the minute since it had not stopped raining for almost the whole time. A local resident even told me that while it often rains in the Pacific Northwest, this was an especially nasty, wet week.
“Mount RAINier” towers over the Emerald City, but it was wrapped in clouds for the entire trip. I looked often, but never saw it.
So I found a hat on sale among hundreds of choices. It was just what the doctor had ordered. It has a wide brim and is delightfully unstylish, which suits me well. Gilligan would be pleased.
At the opposite end of the country, there are two seasons. In Florida — the wet and the dry — are the two basic weather choices. Typically, during the wet summer season it rains hard for about 10 minutes, at approximately 4 p.m., almost every day.
A meteorologist told me there are more lightning strikes in the Tampa Area than anywhere else except one spot in Africa. This seems about right.
My mother said the roadways during a hard rain was covered with “black ice.”
And still, though it only rained for that short time period, many motorists refused to slow down. Many accidents could so easily have been prevented by slowing down to a reasonable speed for a few minutes.
We would often come upon crashes that occurred during a storm. A few minutes after the rain stopped, the sun had come out and had quickly dried the roadway. Alanis would probably consider it quite ironic.
It continues to rain regularly in Chester County and I still have that cool hat. A little bit of rain really is not all that bad unless the storms cause floods or the mud is bottomless.
April showers bring May flowers, but oh my, March is a drag. In August we will be screaming for a thunderstorm to break a heat wave and cool it down.
And even if we’re not fully aware of whether rain is predicted for the following day, my favorite farmer Pasekoff will still be watching closely. I’d hate to miss out on that asparagus.
Bill Rettew is a weekly columnist and Chester County native. He has been known to dance in the rain but prefers to sunbathe in the sunlight. The best way to reach him is at brettew@ dailylocal.com