The air smells of wounded pines and churning earth. Hail in sprawling drifts looks like snow, then piles of rough-cut diamonds, then destruction. The grass is flattened in the ditches, in our yard, and any depression, however small, is full of red mud water. The hail evaporates, feeding the growing presence of fog hanging heavy in the air.
After making it through all previous hail storms relatively unscathed, two weeks after the storm that took down a few trees and filled our ditches, our little valley was pounded again with rain and hail. An inch and a half of rain, and hail. The garden is gone, more trees and branches are down, and water is pouring into the dam. Even though it was too dark to see, I could hear water rushing in the corrals, in places where there is never water. Our ridge became a waterfall, and more rockslides happened.
The aftermath is quite enough to dampen spirits. Mom worked hard on the garden, and to a certain extent we were counting on it for this fall. However, I know God is good and gracious, and he is not a God of whim or malice. I think back to the pioneers, the first homesteaders, who weren’t just counting on their garden: their lives were depending on it. The survival of their crops meant enough money to buy food to last through the winter into the next growing season. It meant a surplus of five dollars to add to the dollar they already had in the bank. They depended on it. We only hoped our garden would turn out this year. It looks like it won’t. But I’m already working on some mental notes for a hail screen. Necessity is the mother of invention.
Song Dog Journal 
such beautiful writing – thank you x
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Habakkuk 3:9 …Thou didst cleave the earth with rivers.
10 The mountains saw thee, and they trembled:
the overflowing of the water passed by:
the deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high.
11 The sun and moon stood still in their habitation:
at the light of thine arrows they went,
and at the shining of thy glittering spear.
12 Thou didst march through the land in indignation,
thou didst thresh the heathen in anger.
13 Thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people,
even for salvation with thine anointed;
16 When I heard, my belly trembled;
my lips quivered at the voice:
rottenness entered into my bones,
and I trembled in myself,
that I might rest in the day of trouble:
when he cometh up unto the people,
he will invade them with his troops.
17 Although the fig tree shall not blossom,
neither shall fruit be in the vines;
the labour of the olive shall fail,
and the fields shall yield no meat;
the flock shall be cut off from the fold,
and there shall be no herd in the stalls:
18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
19 The Lord God is my strength,
and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet,
and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.
We must be practiced in our trust and in our encouragement of one another as ‘the day of the Lord’ comes ever closer. Thank you so much for sharing this. My heart breaks knowing your disappointment in the expectations but rejoice with you that the garden is not what you are dependent on.
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