In the country, rain is never just rain, sun is never just sun.

When it rains a little, say the old farmer, it sits on top of the grass and the corn.

When it rains too hard on dry ground, the rain runs off and never sinks in and soaks.

When it rains for too long, he says, shaking his head, why it floods and saturates the ground, and kills the roots and takes

away the dirt.

What has to happen, says the old farmer, is that it needs to rain for a few hours, then stop,

and let the soil soak up the water, and then it needs to rain harder for a day or so, so that the water

can get down where it needs to go.

That’s what needs to happen, specially when it’s so dry. The corn needs to get cut.

This morning, the sun came out, and then the clouds came in, and it started to rain, not too hard,

for too long, and then it stopped. I held my breath, and then it started to rain harder and harder,

and the weather says it will rain again in the morning.

I saw the old farmer in the afternoon, his old baseball cap soaked and heavy and stained from the rain.

Hey, great news, I said, this seems like just the right rain! And two days of rain.

He looked at me for a bit, shook his head.  Too much, too late, he said. Doesn’t matter right now.