ahh . . the SWEET FIELDS of HOME

Sleeping Ute Mountain in the background, on the Ute Mountain Ute Indian reservation, tucked into the
southwest corner of the State of Colorado

There is nothing like the fragrance of fresh cut grass or alfalfa and just last week we were able to savor the experience of that with the first cutting of the season.   We no longer own the farm but I still live on part of it and this alfalfa field is just out my door.  This is what it looked like earlier this week just before the stacker came along, scooped up the bales and the irrigation side-rolls were started up again.  My dad never baled the hay until just a few years before he went to his heavenly home.  He always chopped it into big wagons, and then offloaded the hay into the center section of the barn for winter feed.  He also used some to go into the silage pit to make silage, also for winter feed.

I so cherish the sounds, sights and smells of farming!   One of my favorite smells is that of freshly turned dirt . . yes, dirt!   Call me crazy but I like that smell.  I also like the smell of fresh cut hay or grass.  I also like the sound of the sprinklers on the irrigation side-rolls . . with their ch-ch-ch-ch sound and it causes me to be grateful for water!   I enjoy hearing the farm machinery, the rhythmic sound of the swather, the baler, the tractor . . all of it.  I was raised on this farm and I never tire of deriving pleasure ouf ot the sights, sounds and smells!  I'm thankful, LORD, for this gift!!!!