Weathering the storm on the border of another state

What a joy to have met Mrs Karen Hagwood, PR person and grandma of The Tall Corn Motel, Shenandoah. She has a real zest for life and a passion for helping those in need. The testimonials of those who've met her say it all: she lives out her faith. Buddy and I say our goodbyes around 10 am and then it's off to Walmart for a few essentials. It's a good thing I remember to pick up more flea and tick medicine since the parasites are out in full force now. In fact, later on the trail, I pull 17 new ones out of the inside of his ears. Before heading out from the parking lot I'm again reminded of the predominantly caring nature of people when a lady approaches me and says that she'd seen us walking earlier. She hands me a bag with fruit, a big sandwich and some bottled water. Seems like a pretty good start to the day.

We catch up with the WT trail again just east of the Nursery and Seed Capitol of the US. This final section of the trail has so much beauty to offer. We take our time and stop frequently, just to cool down and enjoy the grandeur of creation. In the little town of Coin we make use of the picnic area and split the sub sandwich I'd received earlier. The forecast calls for severe thunderstorms and by 18:00 the skies are getting darker as turbulent waves of clouds start moving in from all sides. In my naive optimism, I figure we can probably make it the five miles into Blanchard before things start getting too bad... wrong.

Just a mile out of town and the sky turns dark green. Black billowing thunderheads virtually touch the ground all around and the energy flashing within them is quite disconcerting. Bud and I break into a run as the winds spiral and blow the beads of sweat right off my brow. A half mile from shelter and the heavens release a torrent that soaks both of us in seconds. We end up taking temporary shelter under a strangers porch while I try to get my bearings and locate the city park.

It's 00:00 by the time the rain's dissipated enough to pitch the tent. Once the storm finishes, there's a stillness and calm in the air that feels quite comforting. The only noise heard in the little town of fifty is the dull persistence of a storm siren, its tone rising and falling in continuous repetition.