Keat looked outside and was surprised to see snowflakes flying in the air outside. “Dad,” he called, “it’s snowing.”

Sounds emanated from the bedroom as he heard feet hit the floorboards and walk lightly across to their window to gaze out. “Fuck!” He heard, muffled through the door of the bedroom just before his father and mother burst through the doors only semi dressed and carrying all of the linens they could. “Let’s go,” his father demanded, slipping boots onto his bare feet and running out the door unto the summer snow.

It had not laid down any depth yet, and Keat and his mother quickly set about covering all the crops they could while father ran awkwardly to the shed in his boots without socks to get more tarps and cloths to cover as much as they possibly could.

The other nearby farms began waking as they were covering crops, slowly beginning to do the same. Father could still be heard muttering obscenities under his breath as he worked, which was a source of amusement to Keat and his mother. They worked together, stretching the fabric and laying it over the seedling plants as father took one end of the material and threw it out in a fan with his practiced skill.

The stores of dry and preserved food would last ten until the crop came in, but they all knew that they would have to tighten their belts in the coming months. The cold would kill some of their crops, but it would also bring people together. After they finished covering what they could, Keat and his father went back in to get fully dressed and return to help their neighbors.

If one family was going to feel hunger, they would all do what they could to help.