I like to stand by the gate and see the cattle walk over to be with me. They sniff the smells I make as a human and I sniff the smells they make as cattle. They came right over and jostled each other. I wonder why they choose to come over. We don't have much in common.
Our nearest corn field. I have an irrational wish to walk into the rows and get lost. Clearly not a good idea, even if I could find my way out by listening for the hourly church bells or looking at the sun. The plants are taller than me and the field is enormous.
Here is the top of the female part of the plant, turning into a corn cob. The red strands are called silk and are a guide to how ripe the corn is. Harvest is once they dry out.
We walked down our drive and see more of these survivors from when the wall fell down and all the old planting was dug up to make new foundations.
Arty photo of 3 sweet, then tart, blackberries. I half crushed them in my hand and got covered in "blood"...simple pleasures!
Our rowan berries. Very glossy and sturdy looking. That tree never grows any taller, just continues from year to year in that corner by the garage. A truly content tree, in the right place and at the right time. All is well in its world.