May 2008 - April Rain, Rain Rain

There's an old saying that goes "April showers bring May flowers." I don't think there's any question about the literal translation - lots of warm April rains will bring on a bounty of May goodies - including an assortment of May flowers. But as I sat through what has seemed like an endless onslaught of rain, rain, rain the last few weeks I began to think about what those words meant below the surface.

Living in central West Virginia means getting used to the seasonal extremes, often including cold, aggravating winters that seem to drag on. This year was no exception. I was so ready for Spring to arrive. April in the country is rejuvenating - lots of sunshine, new flora, an assortment of farm babies from chickens to goats, and so on. It's part of what makes me want to live in the country.

However, I'm not sure I was prepared for this April. In addition to the never-ending rain showers, disappointment and sadness seemed to be lurking around every day. It started with Richard and I bringing our final load of belongings back from North Carolina. After many months, our journey from there to here was complete. It seemed monumental and sad at the same time.

After 20-something years, I didn't have a home there anymore. My house was being occupied by another family and I wasn't sure I was OK with it. Friends and I stood on the concrete driveway crying like babies, surveying the surroundings and reminiscing about what had changed over the years. I finally got in the car and took one of the longest drives of my life, thankful my kids slept most of the time.

The next couple of weeks were even more unpleasant when one of our best friends from NC had two strokes back to back and was in and out of the hospital several times. Not even 40 years old, she's now faced with some permanent loss of function that will change the course of her life. And, I wasn't there to help her when she could use it most. Both she and her husband had also lost their parents this past year, so they were dealing with this crisis while still mourning their loved ones. I was so sad for them I ached.

Another whammy came about when I found out my paternal grandmother would be moving out of state permanently mid-April. This is my Granny, my last living grandparent, who at 90 years, is still very healthy and the kindest soul on the planet. She had spent almost every year of her life in West Virginia and I was comforted by her presence.

She also happened to be one of the few people left who reminded me of my dad (her son) who passed away just a few years ago. When I was able to visit with her she told me stories about my father that would eventually make tears turn to laughter. It was a devastating blow to my psyche. I tried to think positive - she would have a whole new world to explore in another state - but for me, it didn't change the fact that I am going to miss her in a way I can’t describe.

I have so much unfinished business with her. She was going to teach me to pick wild greens, hunt mushrooms and make elderberry jam, just to name a few. She had a knowledge of how to live off the bounty of the land that's almost unmatched, and I want her to teach me everything she knows.

Her birthday is also in late April, which should be a happy event, but it also happens to be the same day my father died. I don't think she has really been able to enjoy her birthday since. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose a child, especially on your birthday, but this year she would also be somewhere else, where I couldn't be, when that sad day would roll around again.

Even a short weekend vacation with my family turned sour on the last day when my laptop computer - my constant companion for three years and the

holder of many pages of my most personal writings - got broken. I'm still suffering withdrawal and don't know when I can expect to get it fixed and usable again. I pray that most of my writings are still there. If not, I have lost months of observations, ideas, memories and photos.

To add to the misery, we finally were able to figure out what had killed almost two dozen of our chickens, including my pet banty rooster "Lucky" that I had hand-raised. He was all but dead at a day old - kind of the runt of the batch - when I took him aside and made special arrangements. He eventually got better and followed me around the farm everywhere, even jumping into the windows to get my attention. Hawks were flying into the coop and killing the chickens, sometimes three or four at a time. We felt helpless and our daughter was devastated.

All of the emotion and sadness got me thinking about that saying again, "April showers bring May flowers." A dictionary on the internet translated the meaning of the sentence into "some unpleasant occurrences bring about better things." My optimistic nature seemed to be on vacation at the moment, but I knew I needed to concentrate on what I had to look forward to in May.

Granny might not be nearby, but I can still hunt for that elusive morel using her guidance, I can plant a garden of greens, or make a flowerbed using her favorite plants. May will bring baseball season, my son's favorite sport since he plays on the town's little league team. My daughter will be anxiously awaiting the new chicks since one of her banty chickens finally got "broody" and is setting on a clutch of eggs. I will be able to celebrate Mother's Day with my kids, most likely with some interesting crayon drawings of me on a hand-made card and dinner at the little café in town.

The sun will shine, air will warm, 4-wheelers will come out of the shed each weekend and Richard will start asking me again how many more months before we can start building a log house. And, hopefully, as I survey the surroundings of my dirt driveway down the holler, a little therapy will happen when all those fresh May flowers make the April showers seem so long ago.

Hoping to simplify their lives, Kim Butler and her family recently returned to Calhoun County after 20 years near Charlotte, North Carolina. They spend their free time putting their old farm back together, keeping wildlife out of the old house and honing their country skills. They plan to build a log home soon. You can contact Kim at kimbutler@frontiernet.net.