Look! Clouds! Who doesn’t like clouds?
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Growing up in rural America, you learn patience.
Welcome to Indiana
It’s late in the season. I wonder if anyone told the bee.
It always surprises me how quickly and how tall these wildfowers grow, only to die down to the ground by autumn.
When I’m an old man, I’ll while away the hours rocking on the porch, sipping spiked lemonade, smoking cigars and ogling the young ladies walking by.
The clouds roll in, like a promise to end the drought. The drought will end, but it won’t be thanks to these clouds.
