| Grandpa Pete looked to sky and wondered when the rain would come. For years, he fought this dusty regimen as mission's drum kept driving him to work the arid field. In fervent prayer, to God he appealed for some relief in his belief the land could bring a worthy yield. Last year, he finally gave up his stance and passed away, concluding perennial spirit dance he had each day with dilapidated barn, its roof caved in. The rotting walls remain through thick and thin for all to see in memory of Grandpa and his steadfast grin. Notes ▶︎ |