Character Building Weather –Dec 1986

The calendar says November 10 …
mid-autumn.

But the thermometer says a record-
breaking minus eight degrees … def-
initely mid-winter!

Thouqh my sentiments lie with the
calendar on this contradiction, every
other part of me must acknowledge the
thermometer. Doing otherwise could be
fatal.

If it weren’t for their pretty pictures and
the modest benefits derived in keeping
appointments, calendars in Iowa would
be in short demand.

As harbingers of the season, they rank
well below the Old Farmers’ Almanac or
even the woolly bear caterpillar, though
perhaps a rung above the National
Weather Service.

It does seem that this has been an ab-
normal year, weatherwise. There were
readings in the 90’s on Easter weekend
back in late March. Then freezing tem-
peratures persisted into May. Though our
average precipitation is only about 30 in-
ches annually, we were running at near-
ly 45 by the end of October. And now the
earliest below zero temperature on rec-
ord. But then my Dad, who knew enough
about Iowa weather to never be surprised,
used to say the only place “normal”
weather was ever seen was in an office
on paper.

Iowa’s state motto is “A Place to
Grow,” but one wag this morning sug-
gested, “Iowa: Our Weather Builds
Character”; another offered, “Iowa: It
Ain’t Perfect, But It Ain’t Dull.”

Have you ever noticed how stark a tree
swing looks hanging from a bare limb on
a cold, gray day with snow swirling about
it in blustery gusts? Not until a day like
this does the mind focus back to gentler
times when it swung high into a dense
canopy of green amidst children’s shouts
and laughter.
…

Snow blowing and drifting across rows
of brittle, broken corn stalks spurs a
spring recollection of rain-spackled green
spikes emerging from moist, dark
earth … or summer scenes of sweaty
dust clouds engulfing man and cultivator,
the image blurred by shimmering heat
waves radiating back at a scorching sun.

The cattle stand facing away from a bit-
ing north wind, backs humped and heads
down. Not long ago, the baby calves were
hightailing it in wide arcs around their
watchful mothers on lush spring grass.
Later they played king of the hill along the
pond bank while their dams stood belly-
deep in the cooling muddy waters.

The ewe flock lies out of the wind, faces
and backs coated with half-melted snow
turned to ice. Last year’s lambs are a
forgotten memory; this year’s not yet a
concern. Even the young ewes appear
old and decrepit as they rise, groaning
with great effort and noisily attempt to
shake themselves clean.

Fortunately, our crop harvest is com-
plete. And though there are many “must”
jobs still to be done this fall, they take a
respite on a day like this. Aside from the
basics of food, water and protection for
this family and his animals, most of a

farmer’s frantic efforts today will be put
on hold as Mother Nature has her say.

Perhaps days like this are part of the
Grand Purpose, too, if only we would
pause to notice. The cold outside may
numb the body, but contemplation inside
can warm the soul.

Originally published The Shepherd Magazine December 1986