Harvest Prayer

Ah Lord, let it be--
that my life yield such a gold,
abundant harvest!

Green and Gold

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!

Yesterday the Wheat was Green...Today it Started Golding.

I couldn't believe it, but sure enough, this morning on the way to school I saw the sun break forth in golden promises and coax the wheat to glimmer back. This evening as I meandered home--late and tired, but not too weary for wonder--I stopped to take some pictures of this gilded overglow.

Tornado Watch?

We're supposed to be under a tornado watch until 10:00 p.m. but there really isn't much to watch. The horizons are foggy with dust. The sun still shines on the rippling wheat.
What you can't see, however, is the wind. It was lifting me off my feet as I took these pictures, and driving home today was not very easy, as the wide side of the suburban kept getting buffeted. Our plan for tonight was to visit our son's music program...but that county is under a watch also, and the miles between here and there, while beautiful, are also desolate so we are not going to brave it. I guess we will sit here at home, wash clothes, and grade piles of papers...unless, of course a tornado swoops in and blows them all into the next county, which, at this point, would probably not be too unwelcome.





I tried to take a video of rippling wheat--green and supple. If it makes you seasick to watch, I apologize in advance. Believe me, I had to have "sea legs" to stand there filming it.

It Must Be Green Again

My husband Turtle is colorblind.
Not totally colorblind, mind you, so that his world is black, white and all gray in- between, but a faded sort of colorblind that can't tell the difference between red, orange, and yellow; that only sees the blue in aqua and purple (making them the same color); and that cannot tell the difference between green and brown.

Poor guy.

I feel sorry for anyone who can't see green. Especially at this time of year, when glorious green sings mightily under the pale blue sky.

I sigh contentedly out the car window,
"It's so beautiful out there."

He says: "What? Oh. It must be green again."