One of the things I like to do over my morning coffee on rainy days is to look at the 24hr rainfall totals on the National Weather Service website. It is a listing of all of the hundreds of automated rain gauges up and down the entire state and it gives a fascinating snapshot of the breadth and intensity of any given storm system. Some storms sweep down the entire state–from Del Norte County in the North to San Diego in the South. Others are much more localized. This system that we have been in the middle of for the last several days is an example of the latter. It is an “atmospheric river” event, and that river has taken aim squarely at our part of the coast. What is remarkable is how variable the rainfall totals have been over a relatively small geographical area. Mining Ridge along the Big Sur coast received over 10 inches of rain in 24 hours when I checked yesterday morning, while in Hollister, just 47 miles away as the crow flies, they were under a 10th of an inch! 

Here in Watsonville we are in one of the “favored” areas and have received over 5 inches in the last week–that is nearly a quarter of our average yearly total. From sunup to sundown it rained the entire day here Sunday. Monday was much the same–with a few breaks only long enough to get out with the camera to take pictures of the dramatic skies. The furrows are filled with water and there are large pools in many fields. A drive out our long entry road has the excitement of passing down a narrow, rickety wharf over the ocean–one wrong move and you are stuck in the mud up to your axles. It is as if the solid earth has changed phase and it’s a wonder our house is able to stay afloat on top of it. 

I could complain about it coming all at once. Our rainy season usually begins with gentle rains sometime in October which are ideal for getting cover crops established. This fall, we watered up cover crops on our steepest fields, where erosion can be a problem, but on most of the others we held off in hopes of getting rainfall to bring them up. Through all of October and most of November, however, that rain never came. Last week, when rain finally became imminent, I went ahead and planted all of our remaining fields to rye and mustard. But the cover crops hadn’t even begun to emerge by the time the heavy rains hit. For the most part we have come through it well, but it is nearly impossible to escape some erosion when 5 inches of rain falls on bare ground. And how well the cover crops will emerge remains to be seen. With our heavy soils, seeds can rot in the ground when conditions are overly wet and cold. 

In the grand scheme of things, though, these are all but minor considerations. The truth is these storms are exactly what I and our surroundings needed. After a long, drawn-out, dusty fall, it is a psychic reset. There is always the last minute hustle of getting implements, seeds, and fertilizer stowed away and making sure all of the truck windows are rolled up. But there is nothing more satisfying than settling into the warm house and listening for the plunking sound of the first raindrops hitting the water heater vent–knowing that all is well on the farm. As much as any given single point in time can, it marks the end of a long season.

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