Elo and I headed over to Deming-Young farm this afternoon for a walk, only to find three vehicles moving through the fields. Two mowers, and a hay baler, were making short work of the season's growth of grass.
It felt kind of sad - a visceral transition from the hopeful new growth of spring to the inevitable harvest. The long grass which had all season sheltered nesting bobolinks and red-winged blackbirds was now close shorn. Two opportunistic hawks circled the field, perhaps looking for unfledged chicks or small mammals left vulnerable in the hay piles, as barn and tree swallows swooped across the fields, perhaps feasting on insects shaken into the air.
The place seemed suddenly different, more civilized and less wild. AS the summer wore on, it was easy to get lost in a corner of the field, hidden from other dog walkers by waist high grass, the dogs restricted to a narrow pathway. Now, suddenly, the entire field seems accessible.
Still, some beauty and color in the midst of human endeavor.