The almanac predicted a storm, so Patience dressed to meet it. Thick boots with her summer skirt, a jacket to deflect the breeze. She had never gone in for Doppler radars or weather apps. Her father had trusted the almanac back on the farm in Nebraska, and he’d almost always grown a bumper crop.
On the day she was born, the almanac warned of twisters, so her mother labored for hours beneath the heavy iron lid of the underground shelter. Patience was delivered safely into the damp, dark earth, unable to see the sky glowing green or hear the wind howling its dangerous song.
It's my last day at work! I can't believe it. It seems like I only applied to grad school yesterday, and now I'm leaving for Vegas in a week. My blogging may be a little spotty for the next few weeks, but I'll try to write as regularly as possible.