A sudden brisk viento (wind) shook our trees at 3:55, and then a light lluvia (rain) began to fall, but it only lasted about cinquo minutos (five minutes) so Fio started up to el buzon (the mail box) to pick up su correo (her mail). As she walked, her brave little soldiers along the edge of la entrada de coches (driveway) sang out reassurances that they could handle the storm to come, that they wouldn't allow any washouts to occur. Now, Fiorella respects su rocas (her rocks), mostly volunteers who leapt into sus manos (her hands) when she was out scouting in the south woods and the dry creek. In fact, she loves them--but she is afraid that she didn't give them enough back-up. We'll see.
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The only good things about Harvey are that he is cooling down la clima (the weather), he will water our parched hierba (lawn) for free, and he has driven Donald Trump off the air--at least for now.
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When Fio hears the name "Harvey," she thinks of the broadcaster, the rabbit, and a fourth-grade friend named Hardy Joe Brundage. He had a great sense of humor, and Fio will never forget when he got up in front of the class and gave an imitation of Mrs. Johnson wiggling into her girdle (which was always an indication there was going to be a fire drill), a scene he'd accidentally walked in on in the cloakroom the week before (la semana anterior.)
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