The lake is beautiful, amazing, peaceful, wild, wonderful, but the other side of the road serves beauty of a different flavor. Miles of farm fields separate us from civilization. Farmers here rotate their crops - corn, soybeans and winter wheat are the usual crops. This year is my favorite - the winter wheat.
Winter wheat sprouts deep emerald green, fading to a luscious golden tan when harvest time comes. The fields become an organic lake, waving in the breezes, rippling much like the waves on Wheeler Lake. Throw in some amazing storm clouds and even Van Gogh would have a field day painting such a scene.
An old abandoned homestead is gradually being overtaken by foliage. Rusted metal tops of the barn and silo offer interest among the wheat.
Where did this family go? Kayla and I walked through the tiny house. There was a tiny, filthy refrigerator, an old wringer washer, a couch and a chair. A rusted iron headboard was propped against one wall where boxes tacked on the wall houses bird nests. An odd back room had a million tiny red dots meticulously spaced on all the walls and even the ceiling. A jumble of old Ball jars littered the floors. We left deep in thought.
Outside the wheat welcomed us back, waving in the Southern breeze. A storm was coming from the west.
The farmers always use Roundup in their fields before planting, which makes them glow golden for a bit. Still, the weeds persist. This dandelion doesn't know he's not supposed to be there.
The vetch surrounds the wheat fields, draping the edges like holiday garland on a Christmas tree.
Bold thistles announce their presence deep in the middle of the fields. Thistle is a farmer's bane, but the birds love the seeds and I think they're quite beautiful. The purple thistle and vetch are quite fetching with the golden tan wheat.
The storms are moving closer and it's time to head home. Before leaving I spy a low place in the wheat field where water has gathered. Through the zoom lens I notice ducks floating there and take several shots. Looking closely at these images after arriving home I was fascinated to see not only mallards but wood ducks, and a mother mallard and her babies. Flitting about among the ducks were red winged blackbirds and meadowlark. The storms came roaring through as I looked at the photos, and it was good.
The lake is beautiful, amazing, peaceful, wild, wonderful, but the other side of the road serves beauty of a different flavor. Miles of farm fields separate us from civilization. Farmers here rotate their crops - corn, soybeans and winter wheat are the usual crops. This year is my favorite - the winter wheat. 
Winter wheat sprouts deep emerald green, fading to a luscious golden tan when harvest time comes. The fields become an organic lake, waving in the breezes, rippling much like the waves on Wheeler Lake. Throw in some amazing storm clouds and even Van Gogh would have a field day painting such a scene.
An old abandoned homestead is gradually being overtaken by foliage. Rusted metal tops of the barn and silo offer interest among the wheat.
Where did this family go? Kayla and I walked through the tiny house. There was a tiny, filthy refrigerator, an old wringer washer, a couch and a chair. A rusted iron headboard was propped against one wall where boxes tacked on the wall houses bird nests. An odd back room had a million tiny red dots meticulously spaced on all the walls and even the ceiling. A jumble of old Ball jars littered the floors. We left deep in thought.
Outside the wheat welcomed us back, waving in the Southern breeze. A storm was coming from the west.
The farmers always use Roundup in their fields before planting, which makes them glow golden for a bit. Still, the weeds persist. This dandelion doesn't know he's not supposed to be there.
The vetch surrounds the wheat fields, draping the edges like holiday garland on a Christmas tree.
Bold thistles announce their presence deep in the middle of the fields. Thistle is a farmer's bane, but the birds love the seeds and I think they're quite beautiful. The purple thistle and vetch are quite fetching with the golden tan wheat.
The storms are moving closer and it's time to head home. Before leaving I spy a low place in the wheat field where water has gathered. Through the zoom lens I notice ducks floating there and take several shots. Looking closely at these images after arriving home I was fascinated to see not only mallards but wood ducks, and a mother mallard and her babies. Flitting about among the ducks were red winged blackbirds and meadowlark. The storms came roaring through as I looked at the photos, and it was good.
6 comments:
Great post! I felt as though I was walking with you. I love old houses, they are great to go rambling through.
Great shots, Debi! I wish you had taken some photos of the dotted room, though. :) I too always admire those large, open, slightly rolling fields near Bay Village. That is a very scenic area!
and it WAS good Debi!! This was just great and the pictures just breathtaking!
Love this post. Where did they go? Nothing more thought provoking then an old homestead.
Pretty area! I'm fascinated with old homes and barns also. If possible, I like to wander around and explore those places. If walls could talk...I think they would have some stories to tell.
Debi, you know I love your writing. Such a journey you have woven for us. In chronicling these adventures you show us how different life is around our globe, yet how similar in its inhabitants or those who have gone their separate ways.
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