Notes on weather
When I first got to the farm, I was a little appalled by the frequency with which weaterh was discussed. "Christ," I thought to myself, "this topic of conversation is dull as dishwater. Shouldn´t we be spending more time discussing the cool, exciting things, like living off the grid and organic farming?"
Well, it turns out that weather is actually of supreme importance if you´re a farmer, and precipitation is even more important if you live up a mountain and rely on snow melt as your source of irrigation water in the summers. Andalucia is a typically dry region of Spain, as I think I´ve already mentioned. Lots of sun, which is great for tourists, but shit for farmers, because dry winters mean dry summers which lead to bummer harvests. So, when it began to rain last week, even though all of his wwoofers were a little grouchy, my farmer host was pretty ecstatic. Just a few days of rain is the difference between a stressful dry summer and a well-irrigated one. It also snowed one day, which led to me and two of the other girls to leave the relative warmth of the farmhouse and marvel at the pyramid-shaped snowflakes "like African children," as one of the others put it.
One final weather-related note: a number of years ago, I stumbled upon a used copy of a book by Cancon darling Jann Arden. Not only was it a diary of the songstress, but it also included some "poems" she´d written. I just leafed quickly through it out of a curious disgust, but picked up on a poem she´d written about how she was so upset and heartbroken that the rain was falling down upon her like manzanilla olives, splatting down on her, pathetic fallacy and all. As someone who has literally had manzanilla olives rain down on her back as they were violently beaten out of a tree above her, I can say that the sensation is actually quite pleasant. Sort of like a gentle massage.
Well, it turns out that weather is actually of supreme importance if you´re a farmer, and precipitation is even more important if you live up a mountain and rely on snow melt as your source of irrigation water in the summers. Andalucia is a typically dry region of Spain, as I think I´ve already mentioned. Lots of sun, which is great for tourists, but shit for farmers, because dry winters mean dry summers which lead to bummer harvests. So, when it began to rain last week, even though all of his wwoofers were a little grouchy, my farmer host was pretty ecstatic. Just a few days of rain is the difference between a stressful dry summer and a well-irrigated one. It also snowed one day, which led to me and two of the other girls to leave the relative warmth of the farmhouse and marvel at the pyramid-shaped snowflakes "like African children," as one of the others put it.
One final weather-related note: a number of years ago, I stumbled upon a used copy of a book by Cancon darling Jann Arden. Not only was it a diary of the songstress, but it also included some "poems" she´d written. I just leafed quickly through it out of a curious disgust, but picked up on a poem she´d written about how she was so upset and heartbroken that the rain was falling down upon her like manzanilla olives, splatting down on her, pathetic fallacy and all. As someone who has literally had manzanilla olives rain down on her back as they were violently beaten out of a tree above her, I can say that the sensation is actually quite pleasant. Sort of like a gentle massage.
posted by c. at 2:24 PM
2 Comments:
So what do you have against Jann Arden? Fans rarely use the phrase "curious disgust", though that is a neat phrase indeed. I only ask because I'm curious, not because I'm an ardent Arden fan. I couldn't even name any of her songs. I'm more of a "Disreali Gears" listener myself.
It's not that I have anything really against her, I just resent the fact that her schmaltzy ballads are overplayed on pop radio stations because of cancon regulations. It's not like there aren't any other Canadian artists out there who are singing songs that are a little less cheesy...
Post a Comment
<< Home