The Flowers & The Fury

It wasn’t even noon when the storm hit. We’d frantically netted the young snapdragons earlier that morning, but we didn’t have a chance to get the row cover over them before the hail came.

I was harvesting ranunculus under the high tunnel when the wind picked up, the aluminum supports waving and snaking under the gale force pressure. Thunder boomed and rain pelted the plastic, the sound a roar. I stood there in the middle of the fury, warm and dry. The tunnel filled with fog and the flowers stood perfectly still.

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