Wednesday, August 11, 2010

What is there to say to straw rolled up in bales of winter toil? When cold has come and the thick smell of summer is found only in the neat unfurling of the farmer's tidy work; when the heavy heat of mid-summer seems but a memory; when winter drags on and on; grey skies, cold feet.

Efficient bales are nothing more than a harbinger of summer's end ... proof that a season wanes.



5 comments:

Naturedigital said...

They can be a subject for beautiful photographs also.
Costas

Anonymous said...

Great job - reminds me of my youth on Munsterberg! ;)

-- Kurt

teca said...

Lovely, Allison...

Kisses and hugs.

Pam said...

Allison,
You certainly found a way to say it with pure pleasure.

Costea Andrea Mihai said...

beautiful! i love this kind of places!