This morning my son walked downstairs in his cozy crumpled green and black plaid flannel. His eyes were still sleepy as we looked at each other. Six hours earlier had I walked down the same stairs dressed for milking cows, had a cup of coffee, and drove to work in a misty fog that slowly switched to drizzle. As I turned left onto the farm road my music went silent and the Emergency Management Alert System sounded an alarm to take cover. A tornado was hovering 30 miles south and moving north east at 25 miles per hour. I decided to skip the farm and made another left turn into the driveway of the farm manager's house.

When I knocked on her door she said, "Oh thank goodness you're here. Get inside. Come sit by the television and watch with me." For the next 30 minutes we listened to torrents of rain alternating with periods of creepy silence outside as we watched the radar show the storm approaching. We discussed farm policy in such situations, how and when to run the pumps if there is lightening, and when to simply open and the gates and set the cows free. She also listed the safest places on the farm to weather a tornado---including the crawl space under her house. I told her the storm was just going to have to take me to Kansas, if it came to that. I know what kind of spiders live in crawl spaces around here.

When the worst of the storm was past we went down to the farm and started working together. For the next several hours we worked. Sometimes in pouring rain, sometimes in mist, sometimes in drizzle. All the time in wet clothes with wet cows, pulling milk, and cleaning up. Wet manure is extra heavy. And parlor cleanup, of course, requires a lot of water and use of the demonic hose. I can't tell you how often I've lost control of the damn thing and sprayed myself in the face. But not today. Apparently the Gods thought I didn't need spraying today. I was wet enough.

We finally got to a good stopping point, put the cows up, and quit for the day. I drove home, took care of my goats, and shucked off all my sopping clothes into the washer. 15 minutes later I was tucked into my favorite chair all dry and beginning to consider plans for the rest of the day when I heard my son's feet on the stairs. Turning to see him I said, "Hey there!"

"Good morning," he replied, "Its a bit moist today."