Liming the Hay Field


Out my Studio window

Bud waits in my studio doorway  for the long orange wagon pulled by four work horses, tails swishing, long manes wild in the wind.

It’s driven by two Amish men dressed  in shades of  blue and wearing straw hats.  They stop often, one of them hopping off the wagon to make adjustments to the machinery.   The wagon spews a cloud of white lime, as they move back and forth through the hay field.

The clanking of metal on metal echos so at times it sounds like it coming from our back pasture instead of across the road.  Like an owls call that is soft and melodious from a distance, but a rough bark close up, the noise changes from a mechanical chugging to a smooth steady pulse.

And punctuating it randomly the call of a long  Whooaa, sharp Ho, or a clipped  Ya or Yay to tell the horses to stop or go.

When they are once again in front of the house, Bud runs to the fence barking as if he has something to do with their coming and going.

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Full Moon Fiber Art