Mr. Trump, Sir, I Do Not Have Words... To thank you for returning God's weather. I did not know the extent of the my trauma, induced by over 10 years of constant spraying and weather manipulation we here in southern Oregon have had to endure. Pus-colored skies, sick chemical rings around the sun (even on beautiful Mother's Day), horrendous drought, sick birds, dying cattle, silent woods, raging wild fire, dry perennial creeks, the slaughter of animals on highways as they look for water. Oh dear God... you knew my rage, my despair, my tears, my pathetic efforts to keep my garden plants alive, my prayers and my Dream. You know Lord, as my brothers and sisters in this fight were ridiculed, debunked, isolated and ostracized.  Today, Sir, I saw clouds I have not seen in over 10 years of astute observation and record keeping. They glided over head with a Grace and Dignity I had forgotten existed. And I waited cringing in my heart for the inevitable planes and the introduced cap and the ugly spreading poison to rain down on me and others like me who work outside. And I waited and saw none. All day. I confess, Sir, I broke down and cried. I cried as if I had just emerged from a dark and sinister prison into the Light of day. Mr. President, you will never know what this day has meant to me. Even now, I am overwhelmed. Thank you, Sir from a woman who has a heart for the Land. Thank you for standing in the breach against this Consummate Evil infection which nearly took us all as slaves into the dark. If this were another time and place, Mr. President I would pledge my sword in your service as my liege, but I am old and this is now. God Bless you and Protect you, Mr. President, and all Patriots and anons who never gave up and never Gave In. WWG1WGA