The hills are high in grass. As high as I have ever seen it. As good as the grass is, it breeds a constant fear of fire. We haven't had an appreciable rain for about two weeks now, after week after week of uncommon precipitation. The hills are drying at a great rate and with our accustomed every-evening thunderstorms we are just biding our time until we have a fire. Range fires are no joke, and with the grass waist high and higher, it is a very real threat. The winds that accompany the thunder storms can drive a fire across the plains at forty miles an hour. Not a pleasant thought in this otherwise idyllic summer.