To a God Unknown by John Steinbeck

Author:John Steinbeck [Steinbeck, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780141190648
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2011-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

15

It was early in November when the rain came. Every day in the morning Joseph searched the sky, studying the bulky rearing clouds, and again at evening he watched the sinking sun reddening the sky. And he thought of those prophetic nursery rhymes:

“Red sky at morning,

“Sailors take warning.

“Red sky at night,

“Sailors’ delight.”

and the other way around:

“Red sky at morning,

“Rain before dawning.

“Red sky at night,

“Clear days in sight.”

He looked at the barometer more often than the clock, and when the needle swung down and down he was very happy. He went into the yard and whispered to the tree, “Rain in a few days now. It’ll wash the dust off the leaves.”

One day he shot a chicken hawk and hung it head downward high in the branches of the oak tree. And he took to watching the horses and the chickens closely.

Thomas laughed at him. “You won’t bring it any quicker. You’re watching the kettle, Joe. You may keep the rain away if you’re too anxious.” And Thomas said, “I’m going to kill a pig in the morning.”

“I’ll hang a cross-bar in the oak tree by my house to hang him on,” said Joseph. “Rama will make the sausage, won’t she?”

Elizabeth hid her head under a pillow while the pig was screaming, but Rama stood by and caught the throatblood in a milk bucket. And they weren’t too soon, for the sides and hams were hardly in the new little stone smoke house before the rain came. There was no maneuvering this time. The wind blew fiercely for a morning, out of the southwest and the ocean, and the clouds rolled in and spread and dropped low until the mountain tops were hidden, and then the fat drops fell. The children stood in Rama’s house and watched from the window. Burton gave thanks and helped his wife to give thanks, too, although she wasn’t well. Thomas went to the barn and sat on a manger and listened to the rain on the barn roof. The piled hay was still warm with the sun of the summer slopes. The horses moved their feet restlessly and, twisting their heads against the halter ropes, tried to sniff the outside air through the little manure windows.

Joseph was standing under the oak tree when the rain started. The pig’s blood he had dabbled on the bark was black and shiny. Elizabeth called to him from the porch, “It’s coming now. You’ll get wet,” and he turned a laughing face to her.

“My skin is dry,” he called. “I want to get wet.” He saw the first big drops fall, thudding up dust in little spurts, then the ground was peppered with black drops. The rain thickened and a fresh wind slanted it. The sharp smell of dampened dust rose into the air, and then the first winter storm really began, raking through the air and drumming the roofs and knocking the weak leaves from the trees. The ground darkened; little rivulets started to edge out across the yard.

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