Bringing in the Harvest and Painful Paradox

The first thing I see on my walk this morning. I hope the baby bird that pecked its way out is still alive and well.

The second thing I see is that the gate to the first barley field near my house is open. So I guess it has been cut. And it has - in long prickly rows following the curve of the land.

That is why there was so much tractor and trailer activity in the lane last night clanking past the house till late. 

And it's the same in the top field. I have followed the footpath beside this crop all year and in these last months I've watched it change from

green to

gold.

 So on the hottest day of the year,

the farmers chose to begin threshing,

and all day the baling has been going on,

the usual peace and quiet all around me,

disturbed by the sound of the

farm machines, bringing in the harvest,

ignored by all close neighbours

in other fields.

 I can see these neat bales from my bedroom window this evening . 

Every morning I walk the boundary of my garden in bare feet following the tracks of  bumpy mole tunnels,

which I have decided to leave alone. I'd rather  have moles than a neat lawn. The small white buddleia is struggling for light in the shade of a large conifer,

and the horse chestnut on the bank of the stream has its first fruit but also a disease...

leaf miner blight ...it was the same last year but I think it only affects the leaves and does't kill the tree. I couldn't bear to lose a tree.

I'm not sure what this pretty flower is ...maybe a kind of clover....it has spread everywhere in the lawns....and just springs back when I tread on it during  my slow mindful boundary walk...heel toe...heel toe.

 It has been cooler with a cloud blanket over the sun all day. I've lost that aliveness-in-the-heat feeling from yesterday.

 I have been in the kitchen most of the day - cooking. Making carrot and coconut soup, mixing up a rice salad, roasting mediterranean vegetables, whizzing up  dressings -  garlicky, lemon chermoula and creamy tahini with chilli. And baking -  Nigella's chocolate  olive oil cake. 

For my nephew's birthday party. He'll be 42.

I hope he'll be able to manage his celebration tomorrow with all that chemo swirling in his body. 

He calls it healing poison.

I long for it to work its magic -  such a  painful paradox.