The Golden Era of Hay

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Golden hour in the hayfield

The golden hour just before the sun sets is a magical time in the country.  The sky to the east is a subdued version of the sunset to the west.  The light is a warm glow.  When the hay is growing the sun catches the tips of the hay, and if there is a slight breeze to cause them to sway like waves – it is a sight to see.  I also save a little piece of my heart for round hay bales.  I love how they sit out in the fields silently waiting to be collected and taken to feed livestock.  There is also something almost architectural about hay bales.  I don’t really want to know exactly how they are made as I prefer to just see them as little mysterious hay rolls.  During the golden hour they are organic monuments to farming in the golden age.

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Filed under Cabin, Farm, Joy

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