Gold (SWF)

There are a few fields of gold,
scattered between the many of corn and soy,
that turn from their soft green hues,
warm and glowing.

And on that perfect day,
are cut, baled and stacked as straw,
the wheat already picked from the tip of each stem.


Many times I find I have missed the baling—
turn the corner to nothing more
than fading stubble where the golden stems had been.

But yesterday, I found them working.
It was, after all, that perfect day.

See more Skywatch here.

Where is "there?" (SWF)

My friend at work just returned from a week’s vacation. Her favorite part of each day away, the evening--when she would go to a point on land, and from “there,” watch the sun set over the ocean.

Evening Sky above farm fields

And even though, living in the country as I do, where buildings are seldom taller than several stories, they collect, one after another, in small dense clusters. Barns and coops and silos--ringing each country home.

Here, I have a place that I go to, too.
Where the land touches the sky, and the trees part beyond an openness, stretching broad and deep.
Standing at the edge looking out, I could be anywhere.
But for that moment, I, too, am “there.”

Where is your “there” place?

See more Skywatch here.

Going for the gold

Admittedly, I shy away from international issues.
Perhaps because I feel there's little I can do to effect change, where change is needed.
Or, perhaps, because my comfortable home, out of harm's way and buffered by woods, allows me to feel insulated from the troubles of the world.
As if somehow the world's crises will respect my land's boundaries.
And resolve themselves without any impact on me.



Frustration calmed by distraction.
I immerse myself in what is beautiful.


But, even here, removed from it all, I sense a difference.
The farmer's fields usually planted in the green of corn or soybeans, this year are covered in wheat.
Acre upon acre of golden grain, as far as the eye can see.
Standing tall, swaying as the breezes pass over them.
A more beautiful scene, there is not.



Distraction leads to wondering--for this is more than a coordinated rotation of crops.

What I see in my small rural community and unfolding across the landscape is a response to the international food/fuel price crisis.
For in the last year, the price of corn is up 31%, rice 74%,
and wheat...130%.





The crisis on the far side of the world has reached my home.
This year the fields' harvest will be gold.

Wheat





View more ABC Wednesdays here!

Making hay

I've remarked often, while driving past this field at the end of our road, that I should capture it in pictures. Its beauty with each season is stunning. Corn, wheat or soybeans--very likely, soon it will be gone.
So much of our surrounding rural landscape is being transformed into subdivisions. Clusters of clay-colored houses with slate-colored roofs mushroom each spring, as farmland generates more cash from developers, than crops. One day, I will arrive at this intersection and see it planted in grass--a sure sign that it is no longer a farmer's field. And it will be too late.


This morning the wagons and tractor will finish taking in the corn, and soon, reveal the farm hidden in the distance. The glossy stalks glow in the September sun. The air has finally turned cool and crisp, hinting color in the adjacent trees.

There's a satisfaction for me, that comes with starting a long-promised project. A comfort in knowing it won't slip past, undone, with regrets. So many things in life are lost, put off for a later date that never comes.
Naively we think there will be another chance next year. We wait for a more "perfect" time to act. Sometimes we are fortunate. Sometimes we are not.

My plans for tackling yard projects and exploring new hiking sites in the long-awaited cooler temperatures are canceled. A trip to the ER this week found a DVT in my leg.
So, I'm off my feet, and on heparin. Anticoagulant therapy should help, but it's a slow process. And, although I may get just about back to where I'd like to be in 12-24 weeks...all I can think about is how much I'll miss.

One of the hardest lessons to learn, is that there are no guarantees in life. If there's a chance to do something, do it while you can.
Make hay when the sun shines, tomorrow it may rain.