Clouds could carry the day

Clouds Could Carry the Day

In a dry place, the man and woman who grow living things looked to the clouds for renewal of hope. Clouds imply rain, which implies growth, which implies another year of hanging on to the land.
But today the clouds have lied. There is no rain, only those teasing puffy things, worthless.
"I just don't know," he lied. He really did know how bad it was.
"It'll be ok," she fibbed. She really did know it would not be ok.
The stunted maize crop would live another week, then expire. And her calves needed more grass than the dusty land could produce, so the critters moved on to someone who could afford them.
The man and woman moved on, too. To a disappointing auction, to a small apartment, to two small jobs for minimum wage.
The clouds in that dry land have yet to tell the tale. Hope will survive the year, but not the plants or animals natural to the farm life. This is an unnatural year, dusty and dry. It leaves a bad taste in the mouths of good people, who'd rather be farming.
Tags: drought agriculture personal reflections
My "topical post" today at South by Southwest is a news digest.