Once upon a time..(it rained)

Once upon a time; Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away; It was a dark and stormy night, etc, etc. Like many of you, I’ve been thinking quite a lot about rain, or lack thereof. I feel like I’m going to be sitting around the campfire telling the grandkids about how water actually fell from the sky back in the old days when the grass was green and hay was cheap.

Then again, rain is sometimes overrated. (I’m telling myself that anyway, just for sanity’s sake) For example, many, many, MANY years ago when I was still young and impressionable, I had one field of flood irrigated corn that I watered with siphon tubes. I was on the ditch and Paul Hengen was the ditch rider. For three months he held the power of the universe in his hands. When Paul said you had water coming you set your canvases and got ready to open your box. When Paul said you were done, he closed your box.

I did enjoy siphon tubes. It was quiet and peaceful, when you weren’t frantically scooping dirt trying to fill a breakout. It could also be exciting coming face to face with the local wildlife in the middle of the night, and once I convinced myself that I was related to almost everyone buried in the cemetery beside the field, nights were better. Because the field was odd shaped, my sets were not uniform, so I found myself changing water around the clock. I had it for 60 hours, so when I opened the gate for the first set, it was a race to get over the field before my turn was over.

On one occasion, I was down to my last set. It was just after midnight and it had started to sprinkle. The way the lighting was going in the west, I figured I should have just enough time to change water and go back to bed before it really started coming down. It sounds ridiculous to some, but I wouldn’t have water again for a week, so I had to finish.

I had my hip waders on as usual, but because the rain was starting to come down harder, I put my rain pants with suspenders on and rain jacket over that and climbed in the ditch and started changing tubes. About five minutes in, it started to get exciting.

Now, granted, the scene I have described was already questionable at best, with the rain and lighting, standing in two feet of water, 1 am, alone. But I wasn’t alone. Not even close. Something or someone was inside my pants. Not my rain pants, but my jeans, under my rain pants and under my waders. Not only was something in my pants, but it seemed that whatever it was was hungry. It started in on the back of my knee and as soon as it did I started scrambling out of the water. By the time I had done the slip and slide out of the ditch it had moved to my inner thigh and was doing a buzz saw impersonation. I started peeling clothes, but it was a long ways and many layers to whatever was wreaking havoc in my pants.

By now, the rain was coming in sheets, and the lighting was illuminating the headstones on the other side of the fence constantly. I was hopping around trying to pull my wet jeans off when it breeched my boxers. I feel no shame in telling you they too came off. An enormous beetle came off with them, and I’m here to tell you he had fangs! There I was, naked, wet, beetle free, hoping no one drove by.

You know, I’d say I’d never want to go through that again, but……..I wonder if it’d make it rain? hmmmmmmm.