From the best to the worst. That's the kind of wheat what I've been cutting from the seat of the 1480 international combine harvester I've been running.
The fields we've harvested are filled with opposites. We've cut what had the appearance of a dead diseased waste of dry weeds, clouds of fungus spores and finally...wheat...the kind you'd expect to find in a dry weedy waste.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dearest dry lightning
Never mind
Oh boy, my harvest rant, much shorter than what swirled in my mind while bumping and twisting down draws and over hills harvesting the stuff. Water under the bridge I suppose which brings me now to my.
Havest Rave!
Oh the beauty of endless stretches of tall, thick, picture perfect standss of wheat with heavy bowed heads. A joy to see and a pleasure to cut.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Grains of perfection
I like ice cream!
Oh yes, and the cavernous draws, a joy to work in. From the bottom you see nothing but the high slopes all about. Then as you travel further and further in there are so many smaller draws branching off from the main one. A true beauty.
More coming
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