Pieter van der Heyden: Summer, from The Four Seasons (1570)
published by Hieronymus Cock

"I can expect another little insubstantial rain shower along about September."

Every day for the past month or so, the news has been reporting the most savage series of flash floods I remember. Past summers have not been nearly this tumultuous, with perhaps a narrow tornado season followed later by an equally narrow hurricane one, but this summer has seen a seemingly unending series of record-setting, thousand-year floods following unprecedented downpours measuring in inches of Moisture per hour. As usual, my little corner of this world, the one overlooking the absolute center of the universe, where gravity always works reliably, has seen nothing even distantly resembling these calamities. We've experienced our more or less usual Moisture so far this summer, the negative kind. Through June, we received barely a distant whisper of rain, resulting in a net negative Moisture month for us again. We've been praying for rain, while further east, they've been praying for its cessation.

We worship the god of moisture, believing it makes life here possible. People tend to believe most fervently in whatever resource seems most scarce. Those living in cruel circumstances pray to a merciful god, while those who live on the edge of an arid desert pray to a largely imaginary god of Moisture. We've seen rain, but rarely in the season when we need it most. When our forests need a respite, lightning comes in its stead, and then helicopters and airplanes bring Moisture up from the Columbia River to quench the suddenly raging thirst before it spreads.

Yesterday morning, I woke before sunrise to the heavy scent of smoke. The smoke smelled like an insult, a taunt, a disgrace. It either means wheat or forest burned and might still be burning yet. These fires are not transitory visitors. Their effects last for generations. Just last week, The Muse and I visited a section of National Forest where we camped twenty years ago. Since then, a lightning fire reduced the primeval to blackened stands of native timber. What had been gently shaded through the summer now lies beneath a relentless sky. The underbrush largely survived. Fallen giants litter the forest floor, rendering it all but impassable, all due to a shortage of Moisture.

I'd packed several bottles of water for our excursion, knowing for certain that we'd find no potable water once we left the paved road. The remaining forest has its charms, but they sure seem different. The certain knowledge that we'll never again experience it as it was before the fire leaves us feeling humbled and tired. The missing trees were those rugged hills’ defense against the consistently blistering summers. They held Moisture and offered defenses. I wonder if the bears, once common there, ever returned after their homeland burned.

Some say the world will end with fire, and others, ice, Robert Frost supposed. For some these days, their world ended with Moisture, falling in inches per hour onto an impenetrable limestone and swiftly accumulating into a surprise tidal wave. Others blow away on a seemingly indifferent wind or burn in a malevolent firestorm. Fire, ice, Moisture, wind, before coming around to fire again, the common denominator: end.

It rained overnight. I woke to a cooling Moisture on my face and that unfamiliar shine on the street out front. Potholes shimmered and speckled in the barely discernible drizzle. I had planned to set sprinklers in the predawn again this morning, but free rain came instead. The wheat harvest will be suspended until midday, when the humidity may rise to a point where chaff can easily separate from the kernel again. Until then, the crew will take the opportunity to grease the equipment and ready themselves for an extended afternoon. Harvest will continue until last light forces the combines to quit. The Moisture washed the smoky scent out of the breeze this morning. I can expect another little insubstantial rain shower along about September.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #FollowingChapters, #PureSchmaltz