Frogs and Locusts Next?

As I arrived at my Mom's kitchen door Thursday, I stopped for a few minutes to listen for the sound of hoof beats from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

There at her table sat my mother with her laptop, reading facebook. My mother. On the Internet.

As I drove onto the property, I noticed the flowers growing on both sides of the barn door. Flowers. At the barn.

But the biggest sign that something has drastically changed in our world was the trip to the farm on the former County 62, also known as the 8th line. There was pavement. Real pavement. Not that cold-rolled stuff that lasted about five minutes before the first pothole ten years ago. Not the gravel that preceded it, not even calcium-coated gravel. Asphalt. Pavement. The real stuff that they put down on real roads. Sometimes with lines painted on it.

People in Hell, this is your warning: put on your parkas!!