by Jillian Mccutcheon

Created on: July 08, 2009

A SUMMER STORM

Grandpa's gotten rid of the farm now but I can still remember every little detail about it. I can remember every memory it's ever held for me. The farm sat on top of a hill, not a huge barn but fair sized and the expected red color. The house sat about a hundred yards below and just down the hill and to the right sat the pond where we fished in the summer and went ice skating in the winter. Behind the house lived a huge apple orchard. Our favorite time of year was when we collected all the apples to make homemade cider and applesauce. Then up above and beyond the farm sat the fields; rows and rows of corn, wheat, and hay lay surrounded by woods on three sides.

My sister and I spent hours up in those fields or at the edge of the tree lines. The beauty of it for a young child was that you never did know just what you were going to find. That day we were playing our favorite game, hide and seek, in the cornfields. The corn stalks easily had about three or four feet on each of us, and the fields were so expanse we rarely found one another until we started calling for the other.

It was a sunny late August day when we started playing. Giggling harder each time one of us found the other. Suddenly the corn began to rustle from the wind blowing through. You could feel the change as if old man winter had momentarily forgotten what season it was and shot a gust of frigid air down through the trees. It was loud now. The corn leaves scraped against one another and the leaves on the trees began to make noise too. It was like being in a waiting room where everyone suddenly went from quiet to talking all at once. The leaves of all the plants then started to turn upwards to beg for the water they knew was coming. The white underbellies turned the fields and even the forest a completely different color.

Then came a bolt and flash of brilliant white on top of the next hillside followed by a sharp crack of thunder. My sister, being two years younger, screamed for me. We ran as fast as our legs could carry us through the rows until I found her. The lightning seemed to be getting closer and the thunder clapped louder. Then we heard it. It sounded like a freight train without the whistle coming straight for us. The rain started at one end of the cornfield and came toward us. To hear rain coming is a different experience entirely and my sister and I were mesmerized until a smile filled both our faces. No longer afraid I told my sister, "RUN," and we tried to outrun the cascading downpour headed our way.

The rain quickly caught up soaking us to the bone in what seemed like an instant. We reached the edge of the forest just as another flash and rumble sounded off. She screamed and I held her hand and told her what Grandma had told us since we were little, "It's just the angels bowling." This calmed her down and we hid under the thick canopy of the forest. Minutes ticked by and just as quickly as the storm came it passed. As we climbed back out onto the field road to begin the journey down to the farmhouse my sister squealed again but this time with delight. Two little girls stood with their eyes fixated on the sky and the brilliant prism of colors the storm had left behind. "God left us a rainbow," she whispered.

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