I can't stop taking pictures of the wheat...in the early morning or the evening.
Everywhere there's gold, and everything's "geared up for harvest". Farm machinery has all been oiled, cleaned, and tested. The combines stand on freshly mowed grass beside the barns and hay bales, like a row of horses faunching at their bits.
Right now, for a few breathless days, the grain elevators stand tall and empty. The railroads only used in June are cleared and waiting for their annual carloads of grain.
Farming families are all taking this Memorial holiday very seriously. They are resting frantically before the busiest time of their year, rushing to the lake, to Branson, or to shop in the city. While they are gone, I gaze along beside the road, and stop in lonely places to take pictures of their wheat. If you look closely into the golden fields here, you can see a few bands and skimming hues of green. That too must fade to white under the high hot summer sky. Then will come the sound of trucks and combines...the sprinkle of spilled over grain along the highway...train whistles...dust in the air...shouts and sweat...harvest!