Every week I watch the rice fields carefully. I enjoy the planting, the growing, and the harvesting. My favorite time is the harvesting. The plants have turned splendid yellows while mingling with the remaining greens.
It makes the days feel all the warmer. While the temperatures haven't cooled enough to turn the leaves, the rice does it first. It's a good reminder of the coming months. But we shouldn't begin to think of winter just yet.
The stalks have drooped and the wind has furrowed lines.
It's hard work. Long ago the base of life. They keep growing it, year after year.
While I'm privy to watch the farmers fighting the yellow tide. I'm not sure its my right.