Fifties
Peg nearly fell out of her chair when the thunder rolled down the mountains and echoed through the valley, rattling the windows. She checked the sky and frowned. Full dark clouds were moving in, blocking out the sun and carrying the scent of rain. Great, what was she supposed to do with the pile of neon eggs she filled with treats for the kids and grandkids? She shook her head. “Sounds like a storm’s brewing.” Jock ambled into the kitchen…