(Photo: Iowa Soybean Association / Joclyn Kuboushek)
Rural Route 2: Watching the skies
May 1, 2026 | Bethany Baratta
My husband thinks I’m obsessed with the weather. And maybe he’s right. I check the weather forecast on two apps on my phone and turn the TV to the local news just to see if the meteorologist’s map agrees with the digital version. If there’s a slight discrepancy, I’m looking for a third opinion.
I’m the first to tell the family the expected high and low temperatures of the week. I know if we’ll be shoveling snow on Sunday and grilling dinner by Wednesday. I’ve got a specific spot in the closet for the erratic weeks where all the seasons are represented in a span of seven days (remember that spring break week in March?). My car is a wardrobe on wheels of “just in case” gear — layers of clothing, umbrellas, swimsuits, and winter hats — because in the Midwest, you never know.
It likely has everything to do with where I grew up. On the farm, our family didn’t necessarily have a “must watch” sitcom or TV show we all watched together. But when the weather report came on, everyone was hushed.
The weather would guide our weeks — and our prayers. Will the growing crops catch a rain? “God, please send the rain.” Would the end of the week be fit for cutting hay? “God, thanks for the rain, but please make it stop.” Is there a window that we can plant the garden without getting stuck in mud?
I’m sure you can relate. For most people, rainy days mean an extra umbrella, naptime instead of tee time and an extra hot coffee. But for those of us in agriculture, those tiny droplets of water seem heavy.
Rainy days on the farm didn’t necessarily mean rest — only faster runs between the house and barn to feed livestock and close the Dutch doors. Sometimes it meant passing time in the barn to wait out the rain, listening to the rain rebound off the tin roof. It meant splashing in puddles and getting our pants soaked (but at least our boots were rinsed off!).
As a farm kid at heart, I don’t fear how the rain affects my shoes or my hair. In fact, sometimes I walk slower just to breathe in the smell of the fresh rain. There’s something soulful and nurturing about the precipitation, even if it does slow down my commute.
As the growing season continues, my radar app is ready (much to my husband’s chagrin). Whether you’re praying for a window of dry weather to inch your way across the field or a gentle inch of rain to give your soybeans a good start, I hope the forecast treats you well this season.
See you in the field (or the shop).
Written by Bethany Baratta.
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