I turn in to the breeze and let it wash over me. It feels good after sweating my ass off for the last nine hours straight. Don’t get me wrong, I like to help, but John was pretty insistent that we get out early this morning and he’s been setting a hectic pace since. Said something about needing to get things cleaned up before the storm. My sunburned shoulders are a testament to the lack of cloud cover, let alone inclement weather. Can’t argue though, John usually knows what he’s talking about.
I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and take everything in. The branches of the Willow are rustling above me. A group of Sparrows are chittering off beside the barn. The air is heavy with the scent of Canola and dust. God it stinks. Summer is half over, and I have no idea where it went. I miss the Spring. Fresh Lilac blooms and cool, cleansing rain. The promise of starting over. Now everything is hot and stagnant. I’m over it.
Solid footsteps on the gravel break me from my meditation. I open my eyes to see John striding past with a coil of rope over his shoulder.
“Come on Daniel, only a little bit to go.”
“Okay, be right there.”
I turn to follow and see dark clouds building to the South. Ugly buggers. The wind picks up, it stings my eyes. I make a mental note to check the upstairs windows when I get in.
Wonder what’s going on? Start here -> The Flood – Prologue