Originally published on my personal blog on June 18.

My Saturday morning found me working on my parents’ ranch. It was hot. I was tired and covered in dust and sweat. Then the wind swept through. It wasn’t just any wind. It was the country wind. Warm, dry, country wind that travels more swiftly than the city breezes because it doesn’t have buildings to hinder it. Wind that smells like datura plants, freshly cut dry grass, dust, and cow manure. Wind that is recognizable by its sound. Country wind is the only wind (besides heavy, stormy winds) that has a sound. When you’re in the country, you aren’t surrounded by traffic, cell phones (no reception), sirens, or car alarms so you can hear one of the most beautiful sounds in the world: the sound of wind in knee-high grass. So delicate, yet so strong. So whispery, yet so distinct.

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