The breeze takes my breath as I rock myself in grandma’s hickory chair. Sweet smell of black-eyed Susans, birds flit along powerlines on the county road. Corn and sunflowers fill farmers fields, surprise lilies blooming in a ditch. Children fuss taking off school clothes, barefoot in puddles after a steady rain. Soon harvest will end as the first winter frost halts the growing season. Soon the fields will be bedding down under a warm coat of leaves, as I pull out the tattered quilt I made back when my hands were still able. The snow will come to prepare for spring’s growth, when my grandchildren will rock in their grandma’s hickory chair.