It is not often that you have an experience that sounds like a story that your grandparents would tell you. You know the stories that start with “One winter it was so cold…” or “During the flood of ‘33 we had to…”. By no means is my tale one of great hardship or survival, but it’s something that is unique in my lifetime. My story to my grandchildren (many years from now), will start something like this: “In the summer drought of ought-two in Maryland it was so dry that the trees turned brown and lost their leaves in early August. We had to rake the leaves from the streets and lawns while it was over 95 degrees.” I realize that this is not the 1930’s dust bowl, the Labor Day Hurricane, or the Knickerbocker Snowstorm but it is bizarre and memorable. In truth we have not had rain in a long time, and it is very noticeable everywhere you look in central Maryland. The broadleaf trees are taking it especially hard.
