Donna Everhart

First Sentence Fridays – Chapter 11

I don’t remember much about the heat, or the storms we used to have when I was growing up.  Well, there was one incident when my brother and I were picking blackberries from a patch close to our house, and an unexpected clap of thunder sent both of us running for cover, dropping the pail filled with berries as we barreled toward the house. The berries went everywhere, but we didn’t stop. Once the storm blew over, we went back outside to try and salvage what we could.

If we ever suffered a drought, I don’t remember that, although I’m sure we did. This likely had to do with the fact my family didn’t farm, and I’m pretty sure if we had, a drought would have been a topic discussed daily (likely by my mother because she’s a worry wart. I take after her and would have worried right along with her).  During a drought, it’s not uncommon to see huge irrigation pipes shooting an arc of water over fields, or one of those gigantic sprinkler type systems sending down sprays of water over several rows at a time. Farms with ponds either natural or man made are used for this very reason.  They’ll have generators to run the equipment, whatever they choose to use, and tap on to the water source.

When it comes to a southern climate, cotton is a pretty hardy plant and well suited for hot days, much like tobacco and soybean. Still, plants need water, and within a week, cotton can become drought stressed, and those who are farming can become drought stressed, all while staring at a relentless, hard, blue sky, and wishing and hoping for those dark clouds to appear.

In THE FORGIVING KIND, the Creeches, after finally getting a cotton crop in the ground, are now anxiously awaiting much needed rain.


Chapter 11

June went into July with no rain in sight.

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