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June 15th  2011    Tim Candler

    The first rain followed a path south and the second rain followed an even noisier path north.  Those of us in the middle held our breath, and I at least was able to count five drops of rain which sat around for a few seconds and were then swallowed by creeping grass. 

    That Tobacco field to the north west is dusty.  Its neat rows are greenish brown.  Each seedling received a little water when it went in the ground, but since then nothing and I hope its owner did not see me close the windows on the vehicle last night.

     The younger man, a mile or so away, has his new hosepipe.  It's a glittering silver and it came in lengths of one hundred feet. He's not a stand there for hours on end with hat and cigarette, he's more of a turn it on and let it flood kind of person.

    Me I am one of those morons who talks to the plants. I have my favorites when it's dry like this.

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