*m eight years old, in the maroon passenger seat of my mum’s Oldsmobile. The entire
interior is maroon with peeling chrome trim. The car is older than I am but it’s
better than the beaver panelled Station wagon we had before it, with holes in the floor
under the carpet.

I chew a Sticky red rope of licorice and watch out the window as we trundle along
the duSty country road. The farms we pass are moStly growing corn or cattle. Mum taught me the
difference between a HolStein and a Jersey cow once before. She grew up in downtown Toronto,
so I don’t know how she knows anything about cows. I identify each herd of cattle as she drives.

The sky is grey and overcaSt despite the warm July temperature. We’re headed to the beach
and I’m hoping it won’t rain. At leaSt, ’m hoping there won’t be a thunderStorm. Rain’s never
Stopped me from swimming at the beach, but lightning is a different Story.

“Do you think itll rain, Mum?”

“Well, those cows over there seem to think it won’t.” I make a puzzled face and Mum laughs.

“How do you know that? You can speak cow now?” She laughs again. I laugh, too,
imagining her mooing to a field of cows to get the local weather report.

“You didn’t know I can speak cow?”

“Nooo .. .” [squint my eyes in suspicion and Mum chuckles.

“Te’s an old wives’ tale. When the cows are Standing, it means the weather will be nice, but if
they’re lying down, it’s going to rain.”

“Really?” Tlook at the cows huddled together in the middle of their field. “What if only half
are Standing and half are lying down?”

“50% chance of rain,” Mum quips back, looking at me sideways to see my reaction while

Still watching the road. When she sees my very serious look of contemplation, she nudges me

with her elbow and we both giggle. We eStimate the percentage of precipitation forecaSt by
each herd we pass the reSt of the way.

“Mum, Look! Home of the Corn FeSt!” I announce when I see the huge barn-side mural in
Jarvis. The mural depicts a giant ear of corn and a scarecrow advertising the feStival. The Corn
FeSt sign means there’s only fifteen minutes until we get to Port Dover, our deStination. The
longest fifteen minutes of the hour long drive.