The year before had been a continuation of a drought of the last several years, this year had seen an almost monsoon-like summer. It had rained the entire month of June. The pasture was underwater; the cattle were unable to get out and graze. The crops were ruined…flooded…lifeless.
This summer had been the last of the attempts to save the farm…the family heritage that had been handed down for generations. All things have a beginning and end…was this ours?
One last morning’s hike along the fence…watching the sun valiantly rising through the dense fog and rain, I still see possibility.
Trying my hand at a new prompt (using the above photo) with the Friday Fictioneers joining Rochelle Wisoff in telling a complete story with 100 words: http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/17-january-2014/