In the Grass

 I didn't see any snakes today, but I flushed a couple rats. And a plague-worthy amount of grasshoppers. A Sunday afternoon in the rippling waves of grass, bush hogging before winter, breathing in too much dust and too many seeds. The bush hog kicks a lovely spray of grit and bugs and dirt up the back of the tractor, and, consequently, up the back of your shirt. It's a sweaty, dirty job, and through the ear plugs, the steady thrum and chug of the tractor is the sound of exuberance. There's something lemon-smelling in the cut-grass. And the sky is heaven-and-cotton perfection. The sun is warm. There's dirt in my chapstsick. It feels like early fall, and late summer.

 

Sunday in the grass. 

 

 

Before...

 

During...

 

 

Still during...

 

 



Freakishly, the above two photos lined up really well when stacked together.

 

Mowing is good thinking time. Hopefully, the next week will unfold some good writing time too. Hope everyone had a great weekend.