The road, though, was soaked and soft. The storm the night before must have been intense and, in fact, I began to see piles of pea-sized hail in the ditches. Pulling over to take a picture of the blue mist coming off one of the piles, I nearly slid into the ditch through the mud on the shoulder. I drove on even more slowly than before.
The fields all looked fine in spite of the hail and the scent carried on the cool, wet air was heavenly when I rolled down the window to clamp on my camera and big lens.
The sun still hadn’t broken the horizon and the air was still but through the long lens I could see heat ripples spreading as the sun heated the air above and distorted the view. Farm buildings danced and the horizon shimmered as if I were shooting through water.