Harvest

I fall asleep to the sound of diesel engines.

Combines are gobbling up bushels and bushels of corns and soybeans and transforming the landscape. Night sounds roll across the bare fields.

I awake in the night to coyotes, howling, barking, yipping, responding to each other.

Are they hunting, gobbling up raccoon, rabbits, mice and groundhogs displaced by harvest? Or are they joyful about the wide, open spaces?

My own harvest is going much slower.

In the afternoon sunshine, I pull an ear of popcorn from a stalk, remove the husk and place it in a bag.

Little One, the new barn kitten, helps with harvest.

I measure my progress by ears husked. When finished, I have two grocery bags filled with popcorn. A fine harvest indeed.