Back roads of Morrow County Update: There's
no way to hide your presence these days. The lack of rain on the gravel
roads makes a dust cloud to accompany all travelers. No one is going
to sneak up on anybody til the rains come. The red winged blackboards
must think that the road side ditches were the main purpose for our
constructing the byways for our cars. Their activity as I drive along
suggests the next generation has arrived and are in need of parenting.
Only one field is still in stubble. Perhaps they're doing the
biblical thing and giving it a year of rest. No rain means that the
crops are not growing very quickly. "Knee high by the fourth of July"
may not come true this year without a little moisture. The first mowing
for hay is over. A couple fields still have it lying in the sun drying
out. Most of the hay fields have been baled. Serenity: a hilly field
punctuated with bales of hay resting under blue cloudless skies. A
second haying will take place in early fall. Those farmers who have
wheat fields will have a third. After they harvest the wheat, they go
back and make hay of the stubble that's been left behind. "Waste not,
want not." The cattle and horses of Morrow County will not go hungry
this winter. One farmer always leaves about a quarter acre unmowed. I
think he's been "sweet talked," sweet sung, by the meadowlarks, and he
goes around their nesting places to guarantee another song and flashes
of brilliant yellow for next year. Sacrifices a little money for his
winged neighbors. A conservationist with a red tractor and a John Deere
baseball cap; I think I'd like him for a friend.
This weekend a
couple of the places have lines of flags "planted" along the front of
their homes. Fences of thankfulness, remembrance, and, no doubt, for
some a deep proudful sorrow. The wind caresses; they flutter in the
country breezes.
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