Being raised a farmer's daughter on the hot, dry and dusty plains of Texas, I came to know
very early on that water was our lifeblood. Our family prayed for rain every single day and
twice on Sunday as it was a regular petition at Mass.
We received so little that, rather than quarters or eighths, we counted rain in sixteenths and,
during really dry times, we even counted it in hundredths. Every single, precious drop was
celebrated and how much "moisture" we'd received was included as a regular highlight in
letters to loved ones who lived states away.
In a conversation with Daddy this past Sunday evening, he told me "they "claim" Amarillo's
annual rainfall is 19-20". He then told me about a time when all that fell for an entire year
was 6 inches! I asked was he farming then and he said, "Yes. Nothin' grew that year."
Don't let anyone tell ya that farmers', especially those in the Texas panhandle, aren't
tenacious!
Here in Georgia we get about 50" a year and, even after moving away almost 29 years ago,
raindrops on my windshield still feel very much like holy water sent straight from Heaven.
#everydaybeauty
#handtohearteverydaybeauty
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