I know the storm is coming, not because the weatherman tells me so...
but because the farmers came and took up the beans yesterday. There was nothing I could do about it so I set up my favorite line and played in the warm weather. In two days we'll be inside, hunkered down, listening to rain pound on the metal roof waiting for trees to fall.
The roosters were sad to see the beans go. Oh, and one hen, finally, a late bloomer, the irony. One hen, four roosters, nothing to do but laugh. Where's that fox when you need him? Come Spring, a redo in the hen house.
I was sad to see the beans go too, but it's that time of year.
What is planted must be harvested. Instead of worrying we played, enjoyed the last bits of warm weather, the golden trees. Now we wait.
We draw, read, wonder about this storm. The generator is currently in a thousand pieces, it won't be much help. How bad will it be?
The peace of the moment gives me no clues, just an eerie sense of something big coming our way.
Sitting commences tomorrow, join us?