I recently heard a story that I want to relay to you and the rest of my friends. It is a story about a storm, a Kansas storm. Those storms are big.
A little girl was playing outside on a Kansas farm*. Mama was inside cooking dinner. You know what it looks like, a big white two-story house, wrap-around front porch, a giant maple tree that stands in the front like a sentinel, guarding the house (a little too closely!) A swing hangs on its lower branch. Bikes and skates are strewn about and an above ground pool is in the yard. Sun flowers, gladiolas, and hollyhocks are growing in three neat rows. The land is so flat that you can see the sky for miles in all directions.
The wind. You can hear that gale beginning to whine through the corn field and around the corners of the house, whispering its warning.
“Mama, I want to come inside. The wind is blowing.”
