Talking About The Weather

Idle Chitchat or An Invitation to Community?

3 years ago we bought a farmette in the country. "The Gap" (as my neighborhood is referred to) is considered inferior real estate by the folks closer to town. Most people on the other side of the mountain don't know that this part of the county exists, and that is fine by me. It is a beautiful place, full of wildlife and trees and edible and medicinal plants, old lilac hedges and weathered barns, and I love it. Most of all, I love the river, flowing clear and cool with fresh spring water, full of fish and crawdads and watercress.

Imagine my concern this summer when it did not rain for months, and the river dried up. The fish and crawdads were trapped in warm stagnant pools, and the herons were having the time of their lives chowing down on easy prey. I walked the riverbed for miles on dry rocks, scaring up napping deer, herons, hawks, and kingfishers, taking stock of the plight of the little water dwellers. The situation had a profound impact on my mood. There was a constant underlying tension- an unshakable feeling that something's got to give. I asked people in their 50's, 60's and 70's if they've ever seen the river dry up. No one had. Not in living memory. "The last time it got close to this dry was '77." Two of the old timers told me gravely. "The corn only got knee-high and quit growing. At least this year we had rain up until June, but no- I've never seen the river dry up!"

We took to watering the garden by collecting the runoff from the AC condensation and a dehumidifier in the cellar. Anytime it so much as sprinkled for 20 minutes we collected roofline drips and gutter downspouts in buckets and barrels. We shut off the shower while we lathered up with soap, then rinsed off quickly, praying the well would not run dry.

Yesterday I stopped to get gas from the local station a mile from my house. The pump would not read my card, so I went in to "see attendant". This gas station/convenience store is also the hub of local life as it is one of three businesses in town. There are almost always 3-6 customers sitting at tables, eating breakfast sandwiches and drinking coffee, making small talk. Yesterday the store was busier than usual, and a line formed behind me while I bought gas.

"It looks like it might rain tomorrow" one man said to the people behind him. The whole store began a conversation with him.

"We sure do need it! It's been so dry!"

"The river is so low!"

"When I was a girl we used to jump off the bridge into the river. The old bridge, before they built the new bridge. Now you could wade across and hardly get your ankles wet."

"Well at least I haven't had to mow!" The first man said, laughing. "It's been a good summer for the mower, but the river sure needs it."

I did not join in the chitchat. I was thinking grouchily, "Why do earthlings talk about the weather so much? We all know it's a dry year. We've all seen the river. We've all stopped mowing our grass. Why do we need to talk about it? People are strange..." I wished the cashier a good day and left.

Today it is raining! I am collecting roof runoff in buckets again. After breakfast I took the chicken bones and skin from last night's supper to the bridge over the river. I looked down into the water and noted the level had risen an inch or two, because I know each big rock and how far above or below the water they should be. I saw a big crawdad sitting on the concrete footer of the bridge pilon. "I brought you a snack. I think you're gonna like it." I told my little crustacean neighbor. The first delivery of chicken scraps landed behind her and was immediately surrounded by minnows. I dropped the second round a little farther out and to the right so that it landed 6 inches in front of the crawdad. She scrambled up to it, grabbed the skin with her pincers, and dragged it backwards under a rock to munch to her satisfaction without competiton. I watched the activity below with pleasure, grateful for the rain, grateful for "my river", and glad to know every rock, every trout, every beaver, every muskrat, every fawn like friends....

Then it dawned on me. This is not "My river". It is "Our river". Hundreds of others who I do not know and may never know also care about this place. It belongs to them and they belong to it. My neighbors may be the 5th or 6th generation raised along this river. I am the newbie. There are many people who watch the beavers and muskrats, the trout and the fawns, the herons and hawks, and care about their wellbeing. We've all been worried about the low water table and praying our wells don't dry up. We've all been tense and pent up, feeling like something is wrong, and today we're all rejoicing in this rain.

I should have chimed in yesterday at the gas station. I could have let them know I belong here too. I care about the little critters too. I hope it rains too. You and I are seeing the same things and share the same concerns.

WE SHARE A WORLD.

That is all the weather chitchat is about. It means so much more than idle blather. It's not really about measuring how tall the grass is, or how low the river is. It lets us know that we're not alone in our observations and our experiences- that we are part of a community of others who have a vested interest in our beautiful gap into the Allegheny foothills. What happens to the fish and deer happens to us. What affects the trees and flowers and wild honeybees affects us. We're all part of the same ecosystem and even if we don't know each other and can't relate on a dozen other metrics, when it comes to water and soil, flora and fauna we are united.

Try having a conversation with your neighbors about anything else and see if you feel connected. Ask your dad about next year's election. Ask your brothers and sisters about how they feel about prepubescent children taking puberty-blocking hormones. Ask your co-workers or people at church how many people they know personally that died of COVID. See how that feels. I usually come away feeling like at least one of us is insane, or maybe we're just living in separate simulation programs. They must not be looking at the same world as I am! Maybe they have false memories? Maybe they are brainwashed? Maybe they can't think straight? I don't know, but it is very disorienting and disconcerting to realize that the person right next to you is living in a separate reality.

The next time one of my neighbors says something like "I sure hope it rains tomorrow, we sure do need it." I will take it as an invitation to confirm that yes! WE need it. WE are part of the same reality. WE belong to the same land.