Late May

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

The saying used to be "April showers bring May flowers." I believe that the past few years it has been more like "Rain in May, once again today." 

Just as the valley was beginning to dry, and there were only a few low-lying wet spots left in the fields, a torrential rain crashed down all around and lightening lit up the night sky. Thunder rumbled through the valley.

The sun had been out some during the day, allowing me to hastily wash several loads of laundry. I always try to take advantage of the sunshine and full solar batteries whenever possible. I trundled the wet clothes up from the basement and hung them along the chain that runs under the front porch eaves. The chain makes not only a fun fashion statement, complimenting the metal porch railing Greg built, but also serves as a wonderful laundry line. 

The clothes usually dry over the course of an afternoon, but the humidity was high, and the sun was often covered by clouds. By the time Greg and I were ready to head to bed, the clothes still felt a bit damp. I checked the forecast. There was only a slight chance of overnight rain, and I was tired, so I left the clothes hanging where they were and climbed the loft stairs looking forward to a good night's sleep.

I slept well, until I was suddenly awakened by the sound of rain beating down on the metal roof over our heads. Greg did not stir. I slid out from under the covers and dashed around the cabin shutting all the open windows. That done, I stepped out into the front porch to check the laundry. The clothes were swinging wildly on their hangers. It occurred to me they looked more like Halloween decorations than drying laundry. I managed to catch and grab several pairs of jeans from the chain, and yes, they were no longer damp. They were now quite wet.

I made several trips, my arms filled with loads of wet clothes, before I had them all piled on the dining table. Only then was I able to breathe deep, and take my time as I figured out how to hang them up inside the cabin. Some I draped across the backs of our dining chairs, others I was able to hang from hangers on the kitchen cabinet handles, while still others I hung from the towel rack in the first-floor bathroom. All the while, the rain still fell and the lightening continued to flash outside the cabin’s windows.

Finally, my late night task was completed, and I climbed the loft stairs and slid back under the bed covers. Greg was still fast asleep. I lay awake for a while, listening to the rain, but soon I too was once again sleeping soundly.

Morning, however, did seem to come rather early. I pretended not to notice the puppy dog beginning to stir in her crate, but rather that risk an unnecessary mess to clean, I once again slid out of bed to take her for her morning walk. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky. I opened the loft windows. The creek valley air smelled wonderful, and the valley’s birds were all singing at the top of their little avian lungs. The puppy and I decided to walk down past the pasture and take a look at the rushing creek. As I expected, the creek was running full and wide

I watched as the puppy cautiously put her nose to the edge of a slow-moving backwater. Somehow, she knew it was wise not to venture any farther. In time, we turned to head back up the hill to the cabin, and coffee, and Greg. I had to smile as we walked up the gravel drive and I saw Greg, out on the front porch, busily rehanging the damp clothes from the chain under the front porch eaves. When I walked inside, he handed me a steaming cup of fresh-brewed coffee. Such a perfect way to start a creek valley day in late May.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com. 

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