Photo: Scott Slusher

“This is your reminder: Pray for rain.”

At 10AM on July 22, 2022, I set a reminder on my phone. I had just hung up from a conversation with my folks on the family ranch in Clay County, Texas, not far from the Red River border. Among the enthusiastic questions and boundless pride for me that they present almost every time we visit, they mentioned they were concerned about the amount of rainfall for the season so far. So, in typical southern God-fearing fashion, so the land doesn’t go thirsty, I took up proverbial arms and encouraged my loved ones to help me “pray for rain every day at the same time.” After all, the good book says “when two or three are gathered”…(and so on).

In my opinion, ranchers are like gamblers. They seed, dig, spend, buy, sell, rent, rotate, manage, adjust, study, breed, doctor, catch, repair, build—all with their fingers crossed that the grass and livestock will grow and produce fruitfully so the next generation can do the same. Knowing that if the skies refuse their rains, it could all turn to dust. There are practices to employ that, if with wherewithal, time, patience, and, in most cases, a lot of money, a ranch can last longer, or even survive through devastating conditions like drought. But there’s no defeating or even tricking Mother Nature. At one point or another, everyone feels her mighty fist.

Out of necessity, my people are ones of heroic perseverance. Resilient and practical people who can endure hardships to hold on to their lives, their land, and to one another. My momma always told me I came from good stock.

At Christmas this past year my dad and I loaded up the Polaris and headed to a back pasture where he would show me the update on a new big tank project. At the time it was a huge, strategically-placed and skillfully-dozed hole in the ground. He pointed out all the placed structures for the catfish and large-mouths and the designed location for the watershed. Then we walked along the bank where he and my brother had just seeded native grasses for ground cover and controlled run-off. “This will be a big tank!” he said. “It’ll water our livestock for generations.” A few weeks ago, we drove out to the same project for an update and the hole lay there still empty and dry. I sat quietly with my dad, envisioning casting out a spinner bait while a red momma cow sucked in water next to her fat calf. “It’s gonna rain Dad” I said. “I’m still praying every day.”

This is where I’m from. I don’t remember a family gathering around the table, all of us hand-in-hand with our heads bowed and eyes closed, that we didn’t mention rain. Conversations at the coffee shop always led with “If it rains…” or “When it rains…” We know it will rain, it always does eventually. Some of the landowners in the county won’t last until that dayc, and some will. But there is no one that isn’t deeply affected. Out of necessity, my people are ones of heroic perseverance. Resilient and practical people who can endure hardships to hold on to their lives, their land, and to one another. My momma always told me I came from good stock.

Today it’s 10AM on a hot October day in north Texas, and still no rain.

“This is your reminder: Pray for rain.”