Green crops stretch to the sky, barn swallows swoop and dart across fields and in and out of the barns, shush shush shush of giant sprinkler guns break the silence. So peaceful and serene on the farm, can't help but be in touch with nature and acutely aware of the path of the sun.
The old barns, rotting beams, floors of straw, swallows nests, dust swirling in the shafts of light that seep between cracks in the boards. Broken windows frame the daylight, we squint out of eyes accustomed to darkness.
We raced down to Oregon this weekend to celebrate our daughter-in-law's graduation from the University of Oregon (a Masters in Psychology!) and to spend time with Jerry's family. His mother lives on one edge of the 500 acre farm, two of his four brothers her closest neighbors. Randal has always had farming in his blood and now lives in Grandpa Gilbert's old farm house.
Farmers work around the clock at this time of the year, but are always within sight of home, huge meals together around the kitchen table or out in the field. So much to do - everything needs water, water, water.
The younger cousins are rebuilding a lawnmower with the goal of converting it into a remote control... an older cousin blows glass in his studio after a long day working in the fields. My boys alternate between fascination with the various projects, and just playing - swinging from the rope in the barn, driving Uncle Tim's new amphibious 6-wheeler and skateboarding in Grandma's driveway. Dirt, grass pollen and bonfire smoke blend into their suntanned faces.
We slept past 7:00 am this morning - the latest in years as the pace of the country seeps in and readjusts our hurried, over-scheduled lives of school, jobs, book writing, show prep, house building. Farmers aren't sleeping much right now, but we relaxed and took in the scenes of the farm.
Green crops stretch to the sky, barn swallows swoop and dart across fields and in and out of the barns, shush shush shush of giant sprinkler guns break the silence. So peaceful and serene on the farm, can't help but be in touch with nature and acutely aware of the path of the sun.
The old barns, rotting beams, floors of straw, swallows nests, dust swirling in the shafts of light that seep between cracks in the boards. Broken windows frame the daylight, we squint out of eyes accustomed to darkness.
We raced down to Oregon this weekend to celebrate our daughter-in-law's graduation from the University of Oregon (a Masters in Psychology!) and to spend time with Jerry's family. His mother lives on one edge of the 500 acre farm, two of his four brothers her closest neighbors. Randal has always had farming in his blood and now lives in Grandpa Gilbert's old farm house.
Farmers work around the clock at this time of the year, but are always within sight of home, huge meals together around the kitchen table or out in the field. So much to do - everything needs water, water, water.
The younger cousins are rebuilding a lawnmower with the goal of converting it into a remote control... an older cousin blows glass in his studio after a long day working in the fields. My boys alternate between fascination with the various projects, and just playing - swinging from the rope in the barn, driving Uncle Tim's new amphibious 6-wheeler and skateboarding in Grandma's driveway. Dirt, grass pollen and bonfire smoke blend into their suntanned faces.
We slept past 7:00 am this morning - the latest in years as the pace of the country seeps in and readjusts our hurried, over-scheduled lives of school, jobs, book writing, show prep, house building. Farmers aren't sleeping much right now, but we relaxed and took in the scenes of the farm.
