But the weather forecast said we’d get rain by the end of the week, and it had already been dry, so he figured the cut hay would be fine to be raked...the same day. He said it would dry out even in the windrows the rake left behind, because they’d be loosely packed. He said we were going to let the windrows dry for a day or two and then bale it before the rain came.So, basically, I sat on the John Deere all day and followed the Farmall through the pasture, raking up what Uncle Bob cut with that. It echoed and rumbled, threatening in its voice, and yet welcoming within her mind. She wanted the rain, she wanted thunder, she wanted the storm, and she wanted it all.Counting the seconds that equated to miles, she counted down its approach. It was moving fast, as if it knew her desire, and wanted to please her. She wished for it, her mouth silently whispered the words, the wishes that echoed in her mind. 'Come to me,' she said, 'come come, come to me. I want you.'The slightly cooler breeze. More

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