I smiled. “Pray for the right amount of rain?”
“Yes, for that and for no hail, and no dust storms. I think most of the farmers would say they spend a proportionate amount of time working during the day and praying at night. Each year it’s a risk, but one that once it gets under your skin, keeps you coming back year after year. It’s a good life.”
After taking our turn to wash up at the old tank under the turning windmill, Colin and I joined the line for food – aromatic barbeque, potato salad, pinto beans, corn on the cob and fresh baked pies and cakes. Sitting on hay bales placed around the yard, we unashamedly stuffed ourselves as the ever-faithful cool evening breezes began to blow.
“Why of course, Maggie,” Fern answered. “Feel free any time ... but tell me what kind of car you drive so I can pass the word along ... hate to have you shot for trespassing!”