Harvest 2019


 

One of my favorite memories from my childhood is laying in my bed in the second story of my parents' farmhouse, looking out at the pitch-blackness that is country life, and hearing -- through slightly opened windows -- the sound of farmers still in the field. Combines and tractors and fans on grain bins were always running . . .  from the time I'd lay down at night into the early morning hours.

It was -- and remains -- a comforting sound. It meant someone else was awake, someone else was still out there in the darkness, and all of that was heartening and lovely and a little mysterious. 

It's nighttime now as I write this, and outside, our dogs are barking like it's their spiritual gift because someone is combining across the creek, and even their racket makes me happy too . . . for all the same reasons. 

So if fall ever decides to show up, and if the temperature ever falls from 86 degrees to under 70 in the month of October, you can bet I'm cracking our bedroom window to hear our neighbor's grain bin running as I fall asleep. 

Some people say they love country life because of the stillness. But every now and then, it's the little noises we love even more.




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