~June 8
Let us begin. Let us sing.
Singing of the small corn.
Singing of the large corn.
Singing as the evening falls.
Singing as the light dawns.
The light dawns and finds us singing,
singing as the corn waves tassels at us.
The dark falls and finds us singing,
singing while the squash waves leaves at us.
The earth rumbles from the beating
of our basket drums
The sky rumbles from the beating
of our basket drums.
The rain comes. The rain comes.
—Pima rain-making song
The plants that feed us need sun and water and soil in order to thrive. Too much of one, too little of another, will mean a ruined crop-and, because we depend upon plants for food, will mean starvation and death as well. Our forebears knew the necessity of balance between sun and rain, between night and day, between rest and activity. Too often, today, that balance is lost, so that newscasters bemoan the rain our farms and gardens need—and which we, in turn, need as well.
When the weather thwarts our plans this summer, when weekends are rainy and evenings damp, let us recognize the rain’s necessity and thank the goddess for her bounty. The lush green fields, and full larders, will be our rewards.
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