Across the Flatlands, there's talk of rain. The weather vane squeaks as the wind picks up. Clouds roll in and long shadows move across the fields. You've been out here all day. You're sun-scorched. There are holes in your gloves and there's dirt in your sweat. Was it this hot last summer, you wonder. At first just a drop, then begins the downpour. You drink it in. There's a hint of tartness, a dash of pepper, a pinch of clove, and finally a most welcome effervescence.