While that is comfort to me, granted there are some that find that oppressive or claustrophobic, just like there are some that find riding on a motorcycle a risk that they can’t live with.
From an intuitive standpoint, I found there was more corn planted this year. Our little part of the country is not a huge crop farming area, in fact, more land is utilized here for grazing cattle or haying. The abundance of corn may be a matter of rotation, but it could have been partially due to the return on the harvest on price per bushel.
From an intuitive standpoint, I found there was more corn planted this year. Our little part of the country is not a huge crop farming area, in fact, more land is utilized here for grazing cattle or haying. The abundance of corn may be a matter of rotation, but it could have been partially due to the return on the harvest on price per bushel.
Whatever the reason, I have enjoyed riding along between the fields that grew to provide a virtual maze along my path.
Due to the fact that this is not a major crop farming area, the size of the fields, while large by some standards, did not stretch on like those where the field runs from section line to section line. Riding along between the walls of corn would suddenly end and one would pop out into areas where the fields had just been harvested for hay.
Due to the fact that this is not a major crop farming area, the size of the fields, while large by some standards, did not stretch on like those where the field runs from section line to section line. Riding along between the walls of corn would suddenly end and one would pop out into areas where the fields had just been harvested for hay.
Large round bales dotted the landscape and this year there seemed to be a lot of them in every field. While the amount of hay cut will determine the density of the bales in the field, the path taken by the operator on the tractor pulling the baler will determine the pattern of the bales.
There is a sense, a feeling that I can only get when I am not surrounded by the confines of the cabin in car or truck. The openness of riding enhances my senses, opening my awareness to the regular sequence of the rows of corn, the pattern of the planter, and the enclosed space between the field. An enclosed space that suddenly burst forth into an openness and new patterns provided by the hay bales scattered across the field. Chaos does not live here.
I have found that if I am preparing to write, it is best that I complete this task early in my day. My best ideas come to me in the middle of the night, but while I can remember that I had a good idea when I awaken, and can see, it is seldom that I can recall what the good idea was. But I am at that age that I can enter a room and forget what I went in there for. Early in the day, however, my mind has not been contaminated with the news or other sources of input and if there was a good idea floating around, I might have a chance of recalling it.
Moving around in my head is a lot like riding. Some days there is a good systematic order, like the rows in a cornfield or the hay bales recently dropped by the baler. Other days it’s like riding through a thunderstorm. Chaos of rain, wind, lightning, and thunder, only to end up wet and tired.
Today, I am recalling the close, comfortable cornfield and bright open hayfields dotted with bales. It’s been a comfortable summer, but I really like autumn.
There is a sense, a feeling that I can only get when I am not surrounded by the confines of the cabin in car or truck. The openness of riding enhances my senses, opening my awareness to the regular sequence of the rows of corn, the pattern of the planter, and the enclosed space between the field. An enclosed space that suddenly burst forth into an openness and new patterns provided by the hay bales scattered across the field. Chaos does not live here.
I have found that if I am preparing to write, it is best that I complete this task early in my day. My best ideas come to me in the middle of the night, but while I can remember that I had a good idea when I awaken, and can see, it is seldom that I can recall what the good idea was. But I am at that age that I can enter a room and forget what I went in there for. Early in the day, however, my mind has not been contaminated with the news or other sources of input and if there was a good idea floating around, I might have a chance of recalling it.
Moving around in my head is a lot like riding. Some days there is a good systematic order, like the rows in a cornfield or the hay bales recently dropped by the baler. Other days it’s like riding through a thunderstorm. Chaos of rain, wind, lightning, and thunder, only to end up wet and tired.
Today, I am recalling the close, comfortable cornfield and bright open hayfields dotted with bales. It’s been a comfortable summer, but I really like autumn.
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