Monday, April 28, 2008
Rain grants a needed day of rest
Ray Stubblefield
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As I write, it's cloudy, rainy and cool, thanks to low pressure off the coast. With soft gray light filtering through the heavy overcast, the new spring green glows surreally all around. Even the air is charged green. The emerald isles of Ireland and Scotland have nothing on us. I love days like this.
The rain and warmer temperatures have brought out the leaves. A week ago we saw snow flurries. And for a few days every spring each species of tree has its own special shade of green. It's fall in reverse but in a much more elusive and subtle way.
Even an oaf can't miss the brilliant colors of fall, but if one isn't careful, these golden-green hues of spring will wash away with the next rain, and from a distance oak will look like maple will look like poplar as temperatures climb and leaves turn that hazy olive drab of summer.
The mountains and pastures that surround my home look like a giant watercolor painting without the frame.
We need the rain. We're still in a drought, and this is perfect. The rain has been slow and steady. You can almost hear the thirsty earth drink it in and say, "Ah!" Hopefully this wetter pattern will stay with us.
Last year, pastures turned brown and hay got scarce. I never gave dry spells much notice until we got horses. Now I check the rain gauge every time we get a sprinkle. I wonder what a bale of hay will sell for by the end of this summer? If dry weather doesn't get us, fuel prices will.
As this day starts, I'm the first up. The house is quiet and dawn is breaking. The birds are singing, and a gentle rain falls on the green metal roof of our log home.
I put the kettle on for tea and pull on a black fleece sweater and grab my book. This will be the perfect day to stay home and curl up and read and nap at my leisure. What a lazy bum I am, but that's not an apology.
Dare I say it? I think Americans work too hard, but I'm not the only one who feels this way. No matter where I travel, no matter who I talk to -- Canadians, Aussies, Kiwis, Frenchmen, Germans and Italians -- they all tell me the same thing, "You Americans work all the time."
And they're right. Of all the industrialized countries, we have the least amount of vacation time, 10 days. The Germans get 14 weeks, yet the Germans aren't exactly what I would call slackers. They just have different priorities. Even the Italians routinely take two-hour lunches at sidewalk cafes.
Many of us don't have just one job; we work two, sometimes three. And for those who have only one job, we often put in 12-14 hour days.
And for what? So we can buy more stuff. We already have way more than we need, yet we're never satisfied. We've got to have the newest, latest and the greatest.
Everyone I know is on the go seven days a week. When we're not working we're dropping kids off at soccer practice, shopping, washing the car. It's nuts.
Whatever happened to that day of rest? Even going to church on Sunday has become just another busy day with schedules to keep.
I guess to some I am truly a slacker, but as King David wrote in Ecclesiastes, "There's a time and a place for everything."
Life is about finding balance, not about finding more hours in the day. As I look at the frenetic, 24-7 pace of life we Americans have adopted as being normal, I don't see balance.
Just as all the elements came together to make the perfect storm, all the elements are coming together for me to make the perfect day.
It's the last day of our spring break, and I've got no place to be and nothing to do.
That's not really true. There's tons to do outside, four acres of pasture to fence for our horses, and yard work and some painting and staining to finish, but the rain has put a stop to all that. Lucky me.
If it had not been raining today, or if I had to be in class, then I would have missed this wonderful opportunity to rest and recharge my body, mind and soul. Life can be full of missed opportunities, but we have only ourselves to blame.
America, slow down and smell the roses. We deserve it, but more importantly, we need it. Sometimes there's nothing wrong with doing nothing. Pray for rain.
Stubblefield, who teaches earth science at Franklin County High School, is a Roanoke Times columnist.
