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Here in Columbia, the ground is hard and cracked, the fields are brown, and the leaves on the trees are curled even in the morning. Last weekend, I couldn’t keep away from the Weather Service’s website, watching strong storms rise up and drench areas north, south, east, and west of us . . . but not here.

When I was a kid, we didn’t get the high-tech frustration of watching the radar. All we could do was scan the sky, projecting rain into every cloud wisp that arose, while the elders squinted and sniffed. The old-timers sensed rain by the smell in the air and the turn of the wind, and even today I love the smell of an approaching summer rain.

Let’s just hope I get to smell it before long….

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