I asked Dad if he would like to go see the wheat harvest. He nodded in the affirmative. So a couple of weeks ago when my sister-in-law said they were cutting I went to the home to get him.
Old Mennonite country. You can see the white prayer cap on this girl in the tractor.
(Didn't have my zoom lens on. Sad.)
"No, that's not my home" he said.
But it was. Just looks so different.
I drove him to Castleton, the little town close by where he went to school. The school isn't there any more, but he did recognize the mercantile and also the church.
I called my sister-in-law and she encouraged me to go inside the house to see the remodeling that was completed. I called the house to see if my niece was home. No one answered the phone and I didn't see the car. So I unlocked the house and went in to take a peek.
This was the house we lived in when my Dad was the pastor here.
Dad remembered that house.
Main street. Pretty Prairie is 1 mile long and 1/2 mile wide.
We could see clouds building as we drove home.
That night a storm blew through, dumping 5 1/2 inches of rain. End of harvest around here. It would have to wait in this county for a while as it rained off and on all week. Our little stream became a river. During the night the water level rose to our willow tree.