The author waits in the hot and oppressive air while dust devils are born and die over the newly plowed field. It is a dry spring and she prays for rain. The lupine beans withered to dry threads last week and the corn that sprouted in a green haze over the north field is turning to brown paper. However, driving north, the author discovers the Rum River in full flood. Had the rain fallen on the sandy soil of her Sherburne County farm seven miles to the south, its blessing would have been received more graciously and fewer would have left the thirsty land to go adventuring. But it did not. Watching rain turn to runoff, the author contemplates the soil and seeds washing past her.