Thursday, May 29, 2008

Bringing in the sheaves

Or at least cutting down the sheaves, whatever sheaves are. The nearby farmer plants alfalfa for his cows on my mom's land. Yesterday, he arrived to do the first cutting. Are the cats inside? Whew, there they are. He'll come back another day to gather the grass.


The contrast between the cut and the uncut. Alas, I went out yesterday evening and took a bunch of photos of the patterns the cut grass made and then deleted them from the camera by mistake.

13 comments:

Kim said...

Now this is a familiar scene to me! When I talked with my mother yesterday, she said my father was in the process of bailing the first cutting. So, it is that time of year!

You are right, the textures are amazing in the hay field.

Thanks for the reminder, Suki!

Cris in Oregon said...

Its been raining to much here to start bailing. The fields of rye grass in back of us they let turn completely dry and brown since they harvest it for the seed. Even that golden color is beautiful.

human being said...

green... green
calm and serene
oh what a scene!
what a scene!

Thanks, Suki.

Honour said...

so lush, so rich. what a lovely sight! thanks for sharing suki.

Natalya said...

what a cool scene... thank you!

San said...

Bringing in the sheaves. Backing up the images. All in a day's work.

I trust the contrast between cut and uncut has come to rest in your brain, Suki. Technology isn't as intricate as human memory, or the spirit that drives us to remember such sights.

Cestandrea said...

Green

Grün grün grün sind alle meine Kleider,
Grün grün grün ist alles was ich hab,
Darum lieb ich, alles was so grün ist, weil mein Schatz ein Jäger Jäger ist:

This is a song I sang a lot when I was little, you can sing it with all the colours, it says:

Green green green are all my clothes,
Green green green is everything I have,
The reason why I love all the things that are green is because my darling is a hunter...

Then, if you sing about red, you'd have to invent another job for your darling, like...Butcher? LOL
no, I don't remember anymore what we sang when we sang about red:)

Thanks for sharing these green pictures with us, bringing back childhood songs,
love
Andrea

Forever Young said...

i love seeing and smelling cut grass,again it shows the ebb and flow of life and that everything must end...sigh. lotsa wfs to you and sil.

sukipoet said...

Kim now the field is cleared of all grass. It is peaceful. Last night I sat on the porch and just breathed.

Cris, we are dry as a bone here. But rain predicted for Friday night.

Human Being thanks for your poem. This is all fairly new to me, so I'm fascinated.

Honor, this time of year is gorgeous. The cows will be happy with their fodder.

Thanks for stopping by Natalya.

Thanks San. I do have an image rich brain although right now nothing much seems to stick in there for any length of time.

Andrea what a great song. What about my love is a strawberry picker?

Yes, Fy. The smell is great. I agree that at one angle we have an end, but at another we have cow food in the making. The cow will give milk. We drink the milk. So we are drinking the fodder. A cycle from that angle.

Honour said...

I'm from prairie country, so those sights are familiar ones, even if I don't live on a farm. After a while, it's those things that mark the season -- i.e. seeing haybales in the fall -- rather than the actual calendar.

I had to write again to tell CESTANDREA that her song made me laugh out loud. What a lovely way to start a Friday. Thanks to her for sharing. And yes, Suki - I love how you are able to identify a strawberry picker so easily. I would have been stuck on the butcher :)

Cestandrea said...

Oh yes Suki, that goes well with me, a Strawberry picker, much better than a butcher!:)thanks so much for finding this, I have thought about it all the time when I took the metro!

Kim said...

Okay Suki and Andrea....this is really great!

How about "Violet"? Is that too hard? it would have to be fabric dyer or something like that.

Orange? Fire starter...sounds illegal

Anyway, you guys are the greatest!

Suki...nothing like that aroma. In the west (I know Montana) you can buy incense which smells like sweetgrass...just like fresh hay! Delightful...and it doesn't clog me up! :)

Thanks for the memories...

sukipoet said...

Honor, prairie country sounds so Willa Catherish. Marking the season and telling time by hay bales and the like is the best way. For many years I marked fall by the school buses starting up and the school kids out by the side of the road waiting again.

Andrea, I'd love to hear you sing this song. What a hoot.

Kim, incense that smells like sweetgrass. Divine! Well, violet could be a wine maker. Orange could be he drives a chariot to the sun. Oh dear, what has Andrea started. It would make a lovely illustrated children's book methinks. All the colors and occupations.