Summer

I  could tell as soon as my car passed from Kentucky, over the river, that I had arrived in Ohio. Maybe everyone recognizes their own state where they grew up. The land in Ohio looks a little more cultivated. The ditches and roadsides are filled with white Queen Anne's lace and blue chicory flowers. The crops look taller and lusher. Yards are tidy and and so are their flower gardens. When I reached the drive to my farm, I had a happy feeling as usual. Home. This summer we have corn growing on both sides of the drive. It isn't always so, because we rotated crops. But when we have the corn on both sides, growing so tall, we call the lane, Wall Street. That is, of course, because the corn is tall and looks like green walls and also because that's where we make money. That was my dad's idea, but we still use it. The mailbox was dented this year from a baseball bat, but is still usable. As I drove up the gravel lane, a cloud of dust formed behind me and coated my car. I could put down new gravel, but I think I will just let it grow into grass. It should be less dusty that way. When I pulled up to the farm door, I honked the horn 3 times. That was our family's signal that one of us was home. Even though there is no one in the house, I still like to do it. Maybe I am telling the house that I'm home. The summer weather was hot and when I opened the door, the air in the house was musty and humid. The first thing I did was open all the windows. Then I put my groceries in the refrigerator, and made up my bed. I turned on the television to catch that weather report. When you are a farmer, the weather is the most important thing on your mind. It can make or break you.