When we were kids on the 'Farm on the Fifth', July was the best time of year.
School was out, and the berries were ripe.
Then as now, wherever there was a ripe berry is where you'd find me.
Raspberries, Blackberries, Chokecherries, Thimbleberries, didn't matter.
I was there to pick them.
One hot July day I was picking chokecherries at the very back of the field across the road.
Either the trees were taller then, or I was smaller, because I rememb...
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Today is too hot, too humid, too strange, too oppressive. Only the tropical can suck this wet , hot air and be happy. Even the children are languid.
The subtle breeze that brought this summer is gone. Misty fields of spring are now overgrown with summer, its lushness of spreading crops, weeds, and strange dusty green things a weird an colorful enigma. The cold winter wind is a bitter broken memory and the scent of autumn can't wedge its way into the savage heart of this heat.
Cloud...
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My sister lives in rural part of Bolivar, Missouri and around 9 AM Friday (May 8) a tornado hit one of her large garages they just had built over a year ago. (one of those three bay ones with extra height so they could get a truck with a camper shell in it) The tornado uprooted one of her large walnut trees in the front yard, took the roof up and set it back down on her husbands shop and damaged the roof of their house. Blinding rain kept them from seeing anything but flying metal. H...
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