What everybody in Queensborough and area was talking about when Raymond and I were there this past weekend was the drought. It had not rained in forever, and everything was just so, so dry. We heard of wells dried up, and there’s been a no-burning rule in place for weeks. (That means no fireworks too.) The Manse lawn is a study in shades of brown and yellow, with a texture that varies from crackly to crispy. Except, that is, for a lovely circle of green around our recently planted elm tree, which our neighbour and friend John Barry is carefully watering for us every day when we’re not in residence. That tree is the luckiest thing growing in all of Queensborough! (Except for the crabapple that was recently planted at the Queensborough Community Centre as part of the village beautification project; John and his wife, Anne, are carefully watering it too.)
As we drove home to Montreal very early yesterday morning, we hit rain, serious rain. “Please,” I thought to myself, “please let this be falling on Queensborough too.” I don’t know whether it did, though I do know, thanks to my friend Lindi Pierce’s comment on my post yesterday, that the Belleville area got an excellent rainfall, so I am hopeful. But my Queensborough friend Joan Mandzy told me this weekend that several times rain has got as close as the towns of Madoc and/or Tweed – both just 15 minutes in different directions from us – but not fallen on Queensborough itself.
For the sake of our trees and our lawn and our well, and those of all our neighbours, I sure hope it did. At the moment, Queensborough is a dry, dry place … and that reminds me of something else altogether: the long-ago referendum on whether to make Elzevir Township “wet” or “dry” – and they didn’t mean rain. But that’s another story.