I've been watching two radars all week.
One for Pocono. One for here.
Qualifying runs today. I checked it once this morning while the coffee was going, put the phone face down on the workbench, and went back to what I was doing. There's a cell building over Tennessee that the weatherman keeps moving around on his map. Nobody knows where it's going. That's the one I care about.
Caldwell County is in exceptional drought. That's the worst category there is. The Yadkin's running so low there are gravel bars showing that I haven't seen since we moved out here. The rain gauge on the fence post has been empty so long I stopped checking it. I check it anyway.
Whitaker Land & Lawn is a landscaping company. When it doesn't rain, the grass doesn't grow. When the grass doesn't grow, the calls slow down. It's not complicated. I've got crews that need work and clients whose yards look like they gave up in April. Some of them did. You can't blame them.
The race crowd up in Pennsylvania is nervous about rain on Sunday. I understand that. A wet track is a bad day for everybody. But I keep doing the math on what their rain would mean down here and it doesn't come out even.
Sarah came out to the garage around ten, looked at the radar on my phone, didn't say anything. She grew up in Wilkesboro. She knows what this looks like. Her dad's got a well.
The cell over Tennessee drifted north on the noon update. Might clip the mountains. Might not. I'll check it again at three, after qualifying.
The rain gauge is still empty.