I remember as a small girl going to Seal's grocery at the Hwwy 16-450 caution lights in Kat Kaw. It was not really a grocery store, but one of those out in the middle of nowhere country stores that had a variety of snacks, drinks, and necessities, such as milk and bread. We would drive over at some point every couple of days to pick up those things that did not warrant a fifteen to twenty minute drive into town. You didn't just go to town every day.
In this particular cinder block white building beside the counter sat two old rusting metal chairs. And almost every time we would stroll in for a popsicle or coke and peanuts two old farmers would be sitting there discussing the weather. It never failed that this would be a continuous fixture that would draw me into noticing the weather as a child.
It was in these moments I would hear words like hot spell and storms from the gulf. I remember a conversation once about a buttermilk sky and later Mom explained that meant a cold front. If the clouds are tiny broken up specks looking much like curdled buttermilk, that was a sure indication high pressure was pushing out the humidity. But those were terms I learned later in life.
Back in thOSe simple times weather was discussed with much more basic terminology. And the weathermen back in the 70's reported on New Orleans. That always meant several degrees difference of hot or cold one hour north. And flooding was an entirely different matter in the rolling hills. Creeks and rivers were worth watching but street flooding did not exist. Hail storms that were an interesting spectacle to see in the city streets could wipe out crops or harm farm animals up here.
In short, farming communities were at the mercy of Mother Nature. And if there was ever a weather question, we’d just ask a dairyman who had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to milk a herd of cattle in 15 degree temperatures.
For this reason, I became fascinated with the weather. It was a daily discussion in our lives. I learned the difference of a cloud and a thunderhead. Horses would get stirred up and shake their heads or run when a storm was about to hit. Birds would act certain ways and so would cattle depending on changing weather. Clay's grandmother would always say to never plant your spring garden until you see the bumble bees. This was a sure sign there would be no more dangling freezes.
So, the other day I was happy to share lunch with a couple I have known my whole life. They have a farm right around the corner from where I grew up between two dairies. The Smith family has quite a spread and has shown great success over the years in the farming industry. I could not help but laugh when they were telling me the story of spending the evening with their young grandchildren who were bickering. Nickie was trying to hear the weather over the chaos and finally said, "I am a farmer, and I have to hear the weather!"
They paused and said, "You don't own a farm." He argued that he did and the grandchild replied, "You don't have any chickens."
So there you go! You don't have a farm if you don't have chickens.
But having chickens wouldn't help out predicting the weather anyway because it is true. They don't come out of the rain. They forage best in moist fog and rain drops.
So, there you go. You don't need chickens to have a farm. They attract snakes, make a lot of noise, and follow no guidelines to help him out when grandchildren rob him from the
