It’s raining outside. Miserable, dull, damp weather, which started a couple of weeks ago and just won’t go away. Slimey, squelchy mud underfoot and no prospect of it going away now (bar the odd day of frost) for five or six months. Yuk, yuk, yuk.

So I dug around in my pictures file, and found these of harvest.

harvest1 sept09

I love to see a field of corn, freshly cut, with the golden straw in heaped lines.

harvest2 sept09

Then, as I walked up the track I heard a sound and saw the combine harvester come over the brow of the hill. “A combine! It’s a COMBINE HARVESTER!” Very very exciting, for when we were kids the combine arriving in the fields around our house was the declaration that a new playground would soon be opening. Once the straw was cleared we would have a few weeks of being able to run around the stubble, building jumping courses for ponies and dogs, and raking up bits of straw for the rabbits.

harvest3 sept09

However on this occasion I was accompanied by Firstborn who, being a town-brought-up boy, looked at me with a combination of confusion and oh-my-god-what’s-my-mother-on-now and shuffled off so he could try to deny all association.

harvest4 sept09

We walked through Lady Wood, then came back down to see the corn trailers at the bottom of the field. More excitement from me; Firstborn’s response could best be summed up with “Sheesh.”

harvest5 sept09

And then another look at the lovely, lovely combine.

harvest6 sept09

Firstborn: “Unnh.”

harvest7 sept09

He definitely prefers the dog to his mother on these occasions.

 

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