The recent rains have brought in some cooler weather and, along with that, better attitudes, I think. The summer heat was relentless, and when it broke it was like a great, sweaty weight lifted off of us. All summer, when we would see people they all said the same things, even if they didn’t use words. It was written on their faces: Just trying to make it through.
The wonderful rain came down yesterday morning, as the movie said, “Like God’s own mercy,” and the cattle tanks filled up out on the land. There are puddles, big and small along the curbs downtown, rippled by swirling breezes, and the little Bunker Lake (I call it) in my alley is filled again. I watched as dragonflies dropped down, hovering, then dipped their tails into the water, and our alley garden perked up once again. Hopeful.
The tomato plants wouldn’t produce in that kind of omnipresent heat, but now my wife came in and said, “there are some new tomatoes coming out,” and my mind went back to our almost 20 years on the farm. Fall tomatoes that would come on strong after the brutal 3 months of summer, and us trying to get it all harvested and canned before the first freeze.
Our first year on the land was a brutal mind-siege, and it was so much like this year. Wet in spring, then the rains stopped altogether and it was endless day-after-day of brutal 100+ degree temperatures. We were living off-grid so there was no AC, and I’ve told you all about this before. But in our minds back then a thought would spark up that we would never admit out loud… “We may not be able to make it out here.” It reminded me of the book title by near-local-author (he lived most of his life in San Angelo) Elmer Kelton – The Time it Never Rained. That book was about the super drought in the 1950s that nearly destroyed the Texas cattle industry.
It’s funny how you think a thing will never end, and then it does. And in a bigger sense, time continues to fly. Jimmy Buffet just died, and he’s the one who wrote “Summers and winters scattered like splinters and four or five years slipped away.” What a great line that is. You know when you write something and it is truly good.
Anyway, we are back to walking around downtown, dodging or leaping the puddles, visiting our favorite places, and sitting outside when we can to enjoy the nice weather. Folks stopping by, waving, chatting joyfully. The heavy weight of a hard summer off their backs.
We made it through.
This is the return to the good times, our nine months of great weather, when live music wafts over downtown at night and the smells of the restaurants, too. They’re putting on a new play over at the Lyric Theatre, the classic stage play Picnic, we saw the crowds around this weekend, and maybe next weekend Danielle and I will walk over there and take it in. You should make a plan to come downtown and see the play.
Maybe I’ll see you there.
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Michael Bunker is a local columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose columns appear periodically on the website.