To All In Awe

"Oh to have a distilled sense of sensing
Does the banshee get tired of lamenting?
Daisies can't become daffodils
So why should that become this?"
 - Marrow, by Jealous Of The Birds


The summer draws onwards, hotter and longer. Along my daily commute there's a spot with fields on both sides of the road; acres and acres of stalks growing taller and more golden. All around, housing developments are pressing in, looming close. It's such a change from when my family moved into the home my father built there twenty-three years ago. Once, there were no houses, except for farm houses with an abundance of space on any given side. Once, there was no road which is now well-populated with bikers on the weekends, trucks rumbling to and from construction sites, and drivers like me who have made it their daily drive. For now, it's still a peaceful road. The view of the rolling hill country, spreading out until the land meets the sky as far as the eye can see, fills me with wonder.

Last week, I came upon the crest of a hill and saw that the fields had been transformed into bales of hay. They dotted the many acres like enormous game pieces, or like slumbering beasts all curled up in a neat formation several yards apart. The sight made me catch my breath. In one field, a blue tractor sat peacefully, its work all done. Just the day before, the fields had looked like nothing but grass. Pretty, yet easy for the eye to gloss over. Now, the huge bales transformed the space. I imaged the farmers deciding that the time was nigh, then getting up early and working all day in the baking sun to roll up the massive bales just right. How long would they rest in the fields before being sold, I wondered. How long before cows and horses would race to chomp down on the pitchfork-fulls tossed to them by another farmer on his own land? It was a cycle, as always.

On the drive home, I pulled over to take photos of the fields. In the golden hour, the light was perfect. My camera phone couldn't capture the beauty of it all, that was for sure. So I put it down and simply looked. This year had seen unusually good rainfall in the area. Had it resulted in a bumper crop? Was there rejoicing from farmers and cows alike?

I've never had a farmer's life. I would imagine it to be both incredibly hard and satisfying. Think of looking over the field ripe with hay and seeing the work of both the heavens and your own hands. How thankful.