She wanted to get out to the southeast corner of the cornfields before the rain broke. They counted on that corn to feed the animals through the winter, when there was no grass left to graze. If they didn’t get some more soaking rain soon, the corn crop would be even smaller than last year.The distant rumble of thunder surprised her. She’d almost forgotten what a summer storm system could be like as it blew through. It had been such a long time without any significant rain to saturate the fields. She looked up at the sky. Maybe today.As she walked along the dirt path that led to the north field, she pondered an idea for a quilt top that was brewing in the back of her mind. She wanted to get home and draw it in her journal before she forgot it. That’s what she did with the quilt tops that popped into her mind, unbidden. She filled up her journal with sketches drawn with colored pencils. She wasn’t sure what she would ever do with the sketches—she still hadn’t recovered from the sting of criticism from last year.I wasn’t being proud, she thought, as she walked through the knee-high corn rows.
