Look at that! No, don’t look, listen.

I had nothing. Yesterday passed with glorious nothingness. Camera House resting up. Though I did have a piglet chewing on a bone that some stupid dog had buried in the straw. He was happy, I let him chew.  He just carried it around with him. Should I give all the pigs bones? Like dogs? Is this why their teeth get long and sharp. Nothing to chew on?

And Daisy pushed a fence so far down she stepped over it into the field where the hormonally  raging ram Hairy Maclairy was, then wondered what the hell she was doing and tried to jam herself back into her own yards. Still no photograph though.

I weeded the frog garden which we are going to cover with a hooped plastic lid this year to extend our growing time. But it is difficult to photograph.  And only has one frog. Where are all the frogs this year?

Dogs slept under trees and sheep thought about nothing. I thought about showing you the ONE spigot (tap) that I run all the hoses from, most of my muscles are from dragging hoses. And when the water is running they are heavy. I thought about this when I was dragging the hose from one side of the property to the other. I can FEEL the muscles in my arms when I do this.  They moan to me. But the thought floated through nothingness as I worked and I forgot to take that shot too.

Big Dog thinking about nothing. This is his best thought. The Dog Days. We are not giving up summer that easily.

The clean up crew had nothing to clean up in the pig pen as the piglets are very good children and GO out in the fields, where we most need the manure. Later the camera was too far away when all the piglets let themselves out UNDER the electric fence and went to roll in cow pats. Fresh Green is their favourite colour.

The corn is very softly, very silently, very carefully turning golden from the feet up. It’s voice is changing as the wind flows through the fields. The flutes and violins are fading and the brushed percussion section is beginning to play. Ever so quietly. A growling woodwind with a small breath. Barely heard but it is building. The conductor is turning to their section. It is almost time, the players are straightening their skirts and their backs, turning the pages and tilting their heads. Ready. Soon the whole symphony will be a collection of rustles, crackles and sighs. Harmonious, but first,  the sorrowful rustling whispering melody of approaching harvest beginning to shadow its way through the rows, the section a dissonant descant to the leaching green.

My ever-changing  landscape is changing again.

And that is all. That was my whole day.  I am sure I meant to take more pictures. Instead I took my ears.

 The Postmistress and I are picking pears this afternoon. The tree in her alley is so laden we are afraid for the branches so they can ripen in the shed. Then we will begin apple cider. 

You have a lovely day too.

your friend on the farm, celi