Global warming?

It is 50 degrees at the airport and probably a lot colder outside town. That is over twenty degrees colder than normal.

The furnace is running.


The windows are closed.


The winter clothes that I sorted out to take upstairs and put away have been placed in a pile in the back room where they are handy, since we still need them every day.

In June, no less.


I usually keep a couple of sweatshirts out for everyone, as you can expect some cool mornings, but this “summer” there are still as many heavy (not to mention muddy) boots by the kitchen door and big, thick coats and shirts piled on the chair there as if it were still January.
And rain! 26 out the past 30 days it has rained. We are supposed to POSSIBLY get two nice days before it rains again.

We have no corn planted. It should have been finished weeks ago. This may actually be a good thing, as at least one farmer of our acquaintance is going to be forced to replant all their land because of the rain. We don’t have any, but at least we don’t have to pay for it twice.


The guys are only able to chop green grass for the cows (which is what we feed them in the summer) by towing the tractor on the chopper with the 2-105 four-wheel drive. This means double the man-hours, double the fuel and the field is turning into a disaster area. Three-foot deep ruts fill with running water before they have gone ten feet. The field will be ruined and have to be plowed for corn, which it is according to the government too late to plant. If this doesn’t stop soon they will have to hit another field the same way.


The corn fields were all ready to plant when this weather struck. They just sit there bare and muddy. Don’t know what we are going to feed the cows this winter.


Or this summer for that matter. We can’t make hay either. The old saying about doing that task while the sun shines is true. You have no choice in that matter.

The only heartening aspect of this true slow-moving weather disaster is that when you go to a farm meeting, the farmers are still joking, although you can see the fear behind their eyes.

“The drought is over,” they say.