After thirty years spent plowing, seeding, watering, mowing, spraying, and fertilizing, this is what I have to show for it: twenty acres of crunchy brown straw, and a series of gaping cracks in the ground that look like a scaled-down version of Palo Duro Canyon.
The cracks are so extensive, and so deep and wide, that I can no longer risk even hand walking Pookey Bear. So he is confined to quarters until it rains, which seems like it might be never.
For fun, and to help offset my feelings of impending agricultural doom, I have been playing a variation of the game we all played as little kids, where we looked up in the sky and imagined the different kinds of animals we saw in the clouds. Only I am using cracks in the ground.
Do you see a coyote in this one? I do. At least I hope it's a coyote, and not The Wolf at the Door...
Praying for rain!
Parched in Texas
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