Making Hay

I have no idea why rustic geometry and practical precision fascinate me so much; but when I see the rows of sprouts peeking up out of the dirt, or the corduroy effect of fresh cut hay drying in the sun, I just have to play with my camera. Last night on the way home I passed a field that was being cut. From the look of it, the owners were hobby farmers, since this guy was out there with a tiny rusty geriatric tractor mowing an undulating field on the side of a low hill. I pulled over and whipped out my camera, then discovered that my batteries had run dead. I always carry extra batteries for just that kind of emergency, but my purse strap broke the other day and I hadn't transferred all my worldly possessions into a different bag yet. So I scooted the last mile home, grabbed the batteries, flew back - and the guy with the tractor was gone. Coulda been a great shot.

Anyway, I puttered around the neighboring fields a bit, trying my telephoto out on a few things, and discovered yet again that I don't think much of my telephoto. It just attenuates too much of the light, and I'm not impressed with images that look dingy and have dark corners.

Bottom line - the pics shown are really a poor expression of the interesting stuff going on around here during first cut. And after getting 14" of rain earlier this month, the growing things are trying to take over the world - which lends a certain urgency to the whole enterprise.

And last of all, I ran home, did some weeding and attempted to mow down the sumac seedlings attempting a coup in the west yard. It turns out the carburetor on my mower has suddenly malfunctioned, and it will only run for 20 seconds or so at a time. Rick promises he will take a look at it before those sumac's are knocking on the window . . . .