What is it about hay fields that draw me to them like a magnet? Here in the Houston metropolitan area there are still a few hay fields around, small family owned pastures where concrete and steel have yet to trample nature.
There’s a hay field on my way to church that sits within ear shot of Interstate 45. The field is on the east side of Hafer Road just before it changes its name to Moonglow, where the subdivision starts; my church is on the west side of the road on the other side. Several of the photographs I’ve taken catch a glimpse of a freeway light standard in the background ( top left corner just above the tree line); often unrecognizable mixed in with other elements.
This morning I’d hoped to catch ground fog in the low grasses in the meadows at a different location, the tops of the natural uncut grass are the stuff purple mountains majesty are made of, unobtrusive and yet breath taking when observed. It wasn’t meant to be; the sun light’s angle wasn’t right and I’d picked the wrong meadow as it had recently been mowed around the edges so it looked more like a front yard than a meadow.
When working night shift I would appreciate the fall change each morning on my way home. Most folks were hustling off to work while I simple wanted to catch a few hours sleep as we passed on the roadway. The undeveloped land parcels offered vistas of natural growth; tall grasses, brambles and low bushes where birds found refuge. The autumn mornings made these meadows come alive with soft colors and helped me enjoy the short distance home.
I wonder if the fellow who did all the work, preparing the meadow and then gathering the hay into the huge balls that will later be lifted onto a trailer; I wonder if he appreciates the natural beauty of his efforts as much as I do. I bet he does.
There’s a hay field on my way to church that sits within ear shot of Interstate 45. The field is on the east side of Hafer Road just before it changes its name to Moonglow, where the subdivision starts; my church is on the west side of the road on the other side. Several of the photographs I’ve taken catch a glimpse of a freeway light standard in the background ( top left corner just above the tree line); often unrecognizable mixed in with other elements.
This morning I’d hoped to catch ground fog in the low grasses in the meadows at a different location, the tops of the natural uncut grass are the stuff purple mountains majesty are made of, unobtrusive and yet breath taking when observed. It wasn’t meant to be; the sun light’s angle wasn’t right and I’d picked the wrong meadow as it had recently been mowed around the edges so it looked more like a front yard than a meadow.
When working night shift I would appreciate the fall change each morning on my way home. Most folks were hustling off to work while I simple wanted to catch a few hours sleep as we passed on the roadway. The undeveloped land parcels offered vistas of natural growth; tall grasses, brambles and low bushes where birds found refuge. The autumn mornings made these meadows come alive with soft colors and helped me enjoy the short distance home.
I wonder if the fellow who did all the work, preparing the meadow and then gathering the hay into the huge balls that will later be lifted onto a trailer; I wonder if he appreciates the natural beauty of his efforts as much as I do. I bet he does.
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