It was the evening before tomorrow and peace ruled the countryside

Pants were hung securely from the clothes line.

A few people were winter minded in the heat of the day.

A buggy stood resting on its shafts under the shade  of the old maple tree.

A young man painted his field with golden sheaves of grain.

The girls cheerfully stacked the grain into shocks.

Empty milk cans stood as sentinels of the past, reminding me of the days of hay loaders, pitchforks, bells on cows, and castor oil.

A school house guarded an old pump.

Children, dreaming about hard candy, joyfully drove to grandma’s house.

Young and old celebrated a wedding.

A lady drove out of a tunnel of shadows and into the evening sun on her way home.

A little fellow was exploring his small world of grass and mama.

It was fitting that this field was almost done since the evening was getting late. We were almost home as well, but not quite . . .

. . . since this tourist had to stop and try his hand at making a shock of grain.

The finished product, though a reasonable look alike, is far from a work of art.

I hope that your trip was a good one. Follow me home and I’ll give you a glass of fresh garden tea.

If you like this why don’t you hit the like button. Don’t be shy. It sure would be nice to see who you are. Come back and visit when you can. We’ll try to have the dishes done so we can sit some.