Maxed Out

I remember reading a paper during the last drought (or during the previous phase of the current drought) about Australian ranchers and phone-based weather apps. Many of the ranchers surveyed reported that they would look at their weather apps 20-plus times each day during drought conditions, hoping that the forecast had improved. I laughed at the time - having done exactly the same thing in 2013-2014! And now that we seem to be in a similar December dry spell, I find myself doing it again. The first thing I look at when I wake up in the morning is my Weather Underground app and my Storm Radar app. And these are usually the last apps I look at before bed. I tend to lose count during the day.

But this year's dry stretch feels different to me. I suspect that after four years of increasingly severe wildfires and an incredibly divisive political environment, not to mention a pandemic that seems to be spiking once again, my capacity for anxiety seems to be maxed out. I just want life to be normal again (whatever normal is). I just want it to rain. But I don't have the energy to worry. I'm tired.

I know others are feeling crisis fatigue, too. I've noticed that some folks can laugh about it (I can sometimes), while others seem to have shorter fuses. Some folks seem to be frustrated by the lack of control they have over the weather, the virus, and the politics of our time - and so they lash out at others. I suppose I may be guilty of this at times myself.

Returning to the impending drought, I realize we're still early in our rainy season. The beauty of our annual rangelands here in the Sierra foothills is that a little moisture at the right time will grow some grass. But the short-term stress of wondering if we'll have enough green grass when our ewes start to lamb in late February is difficult. We've spent an entire year taking care of the ewes to get them to this point - to the point where they are carrying next year's lambs (and our source of next year's income). Even if it does rain before the end of the month, we're at a point in our grass year when the days are too short and the soil and air temperatures are too cold to grow much grass.

We've told ourselves that we'll need to make a decision about our drought strategies if it hasn't rained by Christmas and if there's still no rain in the 10-day forecast. None of our options are particularly attractive. We can ramp up the amount of hay we're feeding (which costs money). We can accept that the ewes may drop in their body condition (which will impact their ability to nurse their lambs AND their fertility in subsequent years - which costs money). Or we can sell sheep (which provides short term income but costs money in the long run).

Despite the unpleasantness of all of these options, I do find that my stress level is reduced by simply setting a deadline by which we'll need to decide on a course of action. Decisiveness, for me, can be calming. At least I'll know what we're facing going forward.

In the meantime, I try to remember that other folks are maxed out, too. I try to be kind. I try to laugh and help others to laugh. And I try to cut myself (and others) some slack.