Indiana

Other than the asphalt roads dividing the plots of land, the only other signs of modernization were the tractors that looked like aliens rusting in the middle of an earth attack. On summer days, ninety-five degree weather covered the popcorn farmers with sweat, and tornadoes swooped down ready to take Dorothy and Toto to the land of Oz. At night the crickets played country music, soothing weather-worn faces. January brought snow drifts blinding the front windows of the farmhouses. Children came flying from the front porch, dodging phantom snow snakes slithering across the asphalt roads, screen door banging against the house, to pelt each other with snow balls.