Twenty-two years have passed since Dear Man has called these Fields home; still they draw him. Spring planting, harvest time; they call him to return, to breathe air scented with dark soil or cut hay. Farm is in his blood, yet it is not his vocation.
The Day of Thanks saw him return, an observer of the age old process of releasing the fruits of labour from the Land. Change has come since his time on the farm, equipment has grown in tandem with the crops, a new generation has passed their childhood here. Now the Ones I Love try on this rural cloak, wrapping eager bodies in green and gold.
Fascination with the Land is ever in us. It pulls us to the Creator, immersing us in a multi-sensory experience:see . . .
hear . . .
touch . . .
smell . . .
One last look at evening's sky. A Day of Thanks. Full. Complete.
Lovely photos. I can see and hear. I agree that there is something of the earth in each of us. I have observed that not all acknowledge it or realize it. Sometimes later they do. Those soybeans are remarkably pod-free. My compliments to the farmer's processing!
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