The wind has finally come sweeping the heat and moisture away. The pine trees that divide the yard from the farmer’s field sway back and forth. Their tops bob a hundred feet above watching the wind scurry across the lawn. The wind whips around the house. It flies underneath the guelder-rose shaking the branches like a dog shakes a bone. Delicate balls of blossoms scatter. A white spray of petals fly through the air like flakes of snow in November.