Dear Farm Journal,

Tonight, the sky is lit up with bright purple lightning as storm clouds circle and rainfall drenches the farm. Our view from the ridge is both spectacular and ominous. Foreboding drum rolls of thunder shatter the usual stillness of the night and rumble through our old farmhouse. Rufus and I glance upward out the window and enjoy Mother Nature’s bright stage, nodding to Her commanding firmament with respect. It has been just over a year since the most epic flood our community has ever sustained, and memories of the disaster come rushing back like the water that crashed through our dams, and I wonder how much rain we will get. The dogs spend a rare night in the house, sheltered from the storm, exhibiting their best behavior as a token of their gratitude. Balio did not even rip open the garbage or find a shoe or hat to demolish. I toss restlessly in bed, unable to ignore the flashes of luminous lightning, even with my eyes closed. I sit up and watch instead as fall sings bright and beautiful.


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