My Turn An Ominous Cloud
A
p h ot o w ou l d n’t and whopped that fellow on the side of his head.” have done it jus“Thank you,” said Gary with a disarming smile as he tice, but I wish I’d addressed the diminutive gray-haired woman. “If you tried. It was an don’t mind, I’ll summarize your testimony to be certain ominous cloud, massive and I’m clear on everything.” peculiarly long. I left the farm “Help yourself,” she replied. just after midday on March “You were at your kitchen window looking out toward 18 and headed toward home, Lake Blackshear about 10:30 pm. Is that correct?” going west on the Pinehurst“That’s right,” she affirmed. Hawkinsville Highway. A cou“The distance from your kitchen window to the end ple of miles before the I-75 of the dock where the shooting occurred has been docNeil overpass I slowed to a snail’s umented to be 407 feet. Do you agree?” he inquired. Joiner pace and stared in awe. “I’ve never measured it,” she said, “but that seems Rain was predicted but this about right.” was no ordinary formation. A sharp point loomed daunt“It’s also my understanding,” continued Gary, “it was ingly over Pinehurst, securely attached to an oversized a rather dark night with a heavy fog and there were no spear that stretched toward Unadilla. Smooth edges pro- lights on at the dock or in the yard. Is that the way you vided a border almost absent of irregularities. A lighter remember it?” shade of blue supported the long cloud from below with “You’re right on track,” said the lady. a medium-blue sky pressing down from above. “Is it possible,” Gary asked delicately, “you could be I called my wife to tell her she might want to look out mistaken about what you think you saw occur on the our front door. Although end of that dock 407 feet the tip of the point was not from your window on a “The darkest clouds are often a as well defined from her dark, foggy night?” prelude to the sweetest light.” view, it seemed to begin “Oh, no sir,” she said. “I across the road from our saw it clearly.” home. It’s difficult, however, to judge heavenly distances, “One more thing,” said Gary, adeptly disguising his which reminds me of a story I heard decades ago. confidence in the telling question he was about to presSteve English of Vienna was working in the crim- ent. “You apparently have exceptional vision, so I can’t inal justice system when he told me about a recent help but wonder about something. Just how far can you courtroom episode he’d attended as an observer. Gary see at night?” Christy, a mutual friend and District Attorney at the “I don’t know,” she answered with a nonchalant time, had skeptically cross-examined a defense witness shrug. “How far is it to the moon?” in a murder trial. The incident had occurred on the Shortly after hearing that story, I saw Harry Hurt, Crisp County side of Lake Blackshear. our distinguished Superior Court Judge. Harry gently While fishing off his dock late one night, a man was informed me that tale had been around for ages. Steve shot and killed. The only witness was a 95-year-old was so convincing I’d had no suspicions. woman whose account contradicted the prosecution’s Wind, rain and house-shaking rumbles of thunder version. She maintained the shooter acted in self-de- came with that ominous cloud, but late in the day a fense, even though he was on another man’s property waning sun peeked through the ethereal quietness that and they had a history of conflicts. sometimes follows a storm. Delicate fingers of light Gary politely asked the elderly lady to recount the brushed soft pastels onto a canvas of tranquility. events of that night, which she did in minute detail. Surrounded by a divine serenity, I was reminded that She had been looking out her kitchen window just the darkest clouds are often a prelude to the sweetest after the ten o’clock news while getting a drink of water light. A photo wouldn’t have done it justice, but I wish before going to bed. The men were waving their arms I’d tried. and appeared to be in a heated argument. “No doubt — Neil Joiner they were having some strong words,” she said, “but the Vienna, Georgia scuffle started when my neighbor grabbed his Zebco 33 gneiljoiner@gmail.com Cotton Farming’s back page is devoted to telling unusual “farm tales” or timely stories from across the Cotton Belt. Now it’s your turn. If you’ve got an interesting story to tell, send a short summary to csmith@onegrower.com. We look forward to hearing from you.
22
COTTON FARMING | MAY 2022
COTTONFARMING.COM
