I was about six years old, when I remember a friend telling me that weathermen were liars.
I still remember the event quite vividly.
When I heard that news I was completely devastated, obviously, because I didn’t know that adults were allowed to lie. Since then I’ve come to know that weathermen aren’t actually liars, but that they make their best guess of the future climate based on scientific facts. Perhaps it was the devastation I experienced at a young age that has stuck with me, but I still don’t trust the weatherman. In adulthood I’ve learned that though they may not lie, they are usually wrong. It is for that exact reason that I refused to look at the forecast or check the weather for most of my life.
But I married a farmer, and my anti-forecast attitude was completely abolished the day I said “I do.” I’m fairly certain that the first purchase we made as a married couple was a weather station from Costco. A sensor and wind gauge was up on a nearby fence post, sending a signal to a digital screen inside the office that displays the wind speed, temperature, humidity, and chance of precipitation.
My husband is obsessed with the weather, to say the least. He has admitted to me that he checks the seven-day-forecast over nine times per day. His obsession with his weather app nearly surpasses my obsession with Instagram, and that’s saying something!
However, with all of his forecast checking, and weather obsessing, he will still listen to his wife over any weatherman. I came to learn that fact last week, when we were hit with the worst storm of the season.
I arrived home from work, and as per my usual routine, I rushed out to see what the boys were up to on the farm.
I found my husband in the shop, trying to start a 1952 International Farmall C (aka a really old tractor). It had been sitting in the shop for over twenty years, so naturally it wouldn’t start. He decided since I was there to help, that we were going to pull it out of the shop. So there I was, in my long floral maxi-dress and flats, hooking the side-by-side up to the tractor and pulling it out of the shop. The adventure didn’t stop there! He decided since we were already hooked up, I may as well try to pull the tractor with the side-by-side, and he’d pop the clutch to start the engine.
After twenty minutes of pulling the tractor all around the farmyard, and a few hiccups with the seized tractor clutch, my husband finally had it running. I was so giddy as I watched him driving solo with the tractor I had just been towing around for what felt like forever.
By this point, the wind was beginning to pick up, and we could see the dark storm clouds looming in the distance. “Well, do you think we can beat the storm and get the tractor down to Grandpa D’s?” Scott asked. Still high from the pure joy I felt watching him drive the tractor, I replied, “Of course we can!”
I ran to the house and grabbed his raincoat just in-case, and I told him I’d meet him out on the road with our Jeep so I could follow him to ensure he made it to grandpa’s place without a hitch. I handed him his raincoat and our journey began. We had an eleven km journey to make with a tractor that has a top speed of 15km/hr.
Looking back, the math didn’t really add up, but we were both too excited that the old tractor could run to care. We were halfway to our destination when the heavy rain started, which turned into little ice specs, which turned to quarter-sized hail balls that were pounding on my poor husband.
As I followed in the Jeep my concern was torn between him and our vehicle as the ping of the hailstones echoed in the cab and I checked the hood for dents. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled onto a lease road, stopped the tractor and ran for the shelter of the Jeep. He was completely drenched and soaked the leather of the passenger seat. We looked at each other and began to laugh hysterically.
Perhaps next time we’ll both listen to the weatherman.