My Mowing Friends

It's late August and I don't expect to be mowing overgrown pastures--and I certainly don't expect to have guests.

But as I mow during this unusually wet and cool summer, my favorite birds arrive. First there are a few, and within minutes a dozen barn swallows are swooping in front of me, behind me, around me, gobbling up the insects that the mower stirs up.

I try to capture them with my camera, but they are quick, darting in and out of view. And soon I give up, and just enjoy their orange-tinted breasts, their petite frames, their forked tails. Their moves are kinds that stunt pilots try to replicate--and can't.

Any day now, the swallows will gather and leave, flying South to where the weather is warmer and the insects plentiful during the fall and winter months.

But on this late August day, they are still here--and so I mow and mow, listening to the diesel engine, the blades cutting grass, and reveling in being a small part of their aerial acrobatic show.

Uh-oh...I Lost My Sheep

In a matter of days it happened. The pasture went from lush to waist-high.

And, when Raven, the border collie, couldn't see the sheep through the grass, I knew it was time to do something.

So, I've started mowing the pastures.

We usually mow pastures about three times a year. In early June, July and late fall. It's a process that crawls along--the tractor speed varies from 1-2 mph. And there are acres to mow.

But it's a break from digging, rototilling, weeding and barn cleaning. When mowing, I watch the swallows swoop behind me, scooping up bugs. I savor the breeze brushing my skin. And, I have hours to think and daydream.

When finished--and we're not there yet, I have a place to work the dog.

And the sheep look lovely on freshly mowed pastures.