Dear Farm Journal,
First a heavy rain, then a flash of hail pounds steadily on the farmhouse roof. I stand behind Rufus looking out the office window, my hand on his shoulder, my eyes questioning the clouds, “Will this wave of wind and water (or the next) flush plants and soil away, batter greenhouses, flood fields…or worse?” I absorb it all quietly, like the soil soaking up the storm. Rufus, on the other hand, prefers to meet the water head on. He jumps in the truck and races down the ridge to meet the rushing river. First, he hears the barreling deluge and within moments, the water is across the road. He returns home safely and I semi-playfully scold him for putting himself in danger, but I can see he’s exhilarated. Storms seem to hold an unwavering magnetism over this man. He’s always stepping out and looking to the skies, perhaps a side effect of long term farming. I suppose we should all keep our eyes on these changing skies and see the imminent storms on the horizon.

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