Mom sat in the front seat of the family car. I and a few of my siblings piled into the back seat. Daddy got in behind the wheel and slammed the car door shut. One of Daddy’s favorite things to do on Sunday afternoons during the summer, was to take slow, meandering drives on country roads. I liked to go along because I always hoped we’d stop for a treat, and occasionally, we did!

As Daddy drove the country roads, he examined our neighbor’s corn field. With an approving nod, he announced, “Mark’s corn looks good. It’s as far along as mine.” With his attention not on the road, the car began to veer towards the left ditch. Mom and the older kids yelled, “Watch the road!” This happened again when Daddy noted that our neighbor Tony had already finished taking in his first crop of hay. Sunday afternoon drives were always exciting during the summer months. My father took his job of inspecting local farm crops then comparing them with his own crops, seriously.

While getting ready for one of our Sunday drives, Mom told me, “We’re going to stop at a custard stand today.” I wondered what sort of treat a custard was. At ten years of age, I thought a custard was just a pudding. A good treat, for sure, but it seemed to be an odd sort of thing to be selling from a stand.

            That day I sat between Mom and Daddy in the front seat, because more of my siblings were coming along. I shrugged and commented, “Okay. I like puddings.”

            Mom smiled as she corrected, “It isn’t pudding. It looks and tastes like ice cream, but it’s soft. Instead of being scooped out of a box, it comes out of a machine when a button is pushed. The server puts the custard into an ice cream cone.”

Eager to try a new sweet treat, I questioned, “What makes it a custard and not ice cream?

Mom’s answer, “The ingredients are different.” didn’t explain enough. After all, different cakes called for different ingredients, but they were still all called cakes.

That afternoon’s sweet treat did taste and look like ice cream. I loved it because it was soft, just like regular ice cream after it had been stirred. Just as Mom had said, it came out of a machine with the press of a button, saving me the effort that went into stirring hard ice cream. One of my siblings surprised me by saying, “It’s good, but I still prefer regular ice cream.”

One Sunday when the corn in our fields came up to my shoulders. Daddy examined everyone’s corn fields, then sighed, “We need rain. Just an inch would be worth a million dollars!” I looked and noticed that the soil around the corn stalk roots was dry and cracked. Spiky corn leaves reached toward the sky, like they were begging heaven for a drink.

Later that week, the sky clouded over. When light rain began to fall, I went out to walk around our yard. The pattering drum on the roof of the shed sounded like soothing music. A green wild cucumber vine seemed brighter green as I happily watched the raindrops glisten on the leaves before gathering and eventually dripped off. This was the answer to Daddy’s prayer for a million-dollar rain!

The rain came down harder and didn’t seem to want to stop. Big puddles formed on the driveway. Water rushed down the ditch along the road. On Sunday afternoon that week, despite needing to use the windshield wiper to sweep back and forth, we went for our usual drive. Despondently staring at second crop-hay laying cut and rotting in a field, Daddy moaned, “This rain has to stop soon, so we can gather in enough hay for the cows to eat during the winter!”

The weather was seldom JUST right for my farmer father. I thought, “Poor Daddy, too bad he didn’t have more control over the weather” A line from a song I’d heard in a big sister’s bedroom the night before came to mind. She had the soundtrack from the play, “Camelot” playing on the record player.  We especially enjoyed the song in which the King of Camelot sang, that by his order in Camelot, “The rain may never fall until after sundown. By eight, the morning fog must disappear.”

Even if the weather could be controlled, what one neighbor wants or needs, may not be what another wants or needs. Even with yummy things like ice cream and custard, people can’t agree to which is best! Daddy didn’t cut hay or combine the oats on the same days as Mark or Tony, so sometimes he wanted dry weather when they wanted rain. Farming is like rolling dice. You get what you get. But hopefully, occasionally, the weather you get is JUST what you need!