Harvest Friends

They plowed the field that I drive past every day on my way to work. It's an odd field -- well, two fields, actually, separated by a lovely line of trees. The fields are odd because they're right in the center of the suburbiest suburbs you've ever seen. (Yes, suburbiest. It's a word. Shut up.) I admire the farmer who owns those fields. I don't know him, but I have a lot of respect for him. He didn't sell out when the rest of the Gresham/Troutdale landowners sold off their berry fields to developers so that we suburbanites could have our Safeway and our Jamba Juice. (Good job, Unknown Farmer. Fight the suburbs.)

Anyway, they plowed the fields. The bad news is that the fields are far uglier plowed than when they are green with young wheat in May or even waving and golden in July. The good news is that the geese are back! I estimated about 100 geese in each of the two fields, basking in the sun. (Do geese bask? I really think they were basking.)

The really REALLY bad news is that I'm seeing them on my way to school every morning. Dude. So much for my summer...