amber waves of grain

Last evening while Todd was golfing and Molly was at a sleep-over, Carson and I braved the heat and went out to the farm to ride on the combine and cut wheat. This time of the year is always such a wonder to me. In the course of about a week, all of the wheat for almost of the entire world's bread is cut all around me. Well, not really, but that's what it feels like. Every town for miles around me is focused on one thing...cutting wheat.

This year I took my camera and really tried to watch thru your eyes. I wanted to capture some things that I would have wanted you to notice. I assume most of you have never been around a wheat harvest. Let me tell you: it is dusty, hot, smelly, dirty, and amazing. When we left the house last night it was 6:30pm and still 100 degrees. When we got home at 9:30, we hadn't even cut one whole field, we had the headlights on the combine, and it was 77 degrees. Although we didn't partake in the evening meal (prepared by the farmer's wives and brought to the field), we have many times before.

We saw a mama deer, who could have been our pet. She just bounced along ahead of the combine wagging her tail and looking back at us. While Carson and I were at the elevator, my dad saw a coyote along the edge of the field waiting for the combine to scare out something for his dinner. We saw small quail, rabbits and mice running out ahead of the combine. We saw dry lightening and a storm system moving into the East. We saw great yields, and beautiful plump seeds of grain. We chatted with Willie, the farmer my dad and brother (and some day Carson) have always worked for. We drank water and sweated. We listened to country music and got dripped on by the "air conditioner" in the combine. We drove thru Falun, KS where the only activity in that town happens at this time of the year.

I took grain home with me. I am going to mill it myself this year and bake bread with my own flour. I will eat it with vegetables out of my own garden, and I will be in heaven. For a moment, time will stand still and we will know what it might have been like all those many years ago when our ancestors did just the same: provided for themselves. I will teach my children what it means to me to be from Kansas, and why it is important that we know and maintain our heritage.

At this moment, all is well in the heartland, and for that I am thankful.