I have stood so often at my back fence staring out over the fields behind me in wonder at the skill and ability of the family who have farmed this patch of land for all the years of my life.
There has been three generations of farming family, growing, ploughing, fertilizing and harvesting this land.
With the passing seasons the crops are rotated. The cash crop he is cutting now will be raked and left for several days before in the dead of night I will hear his harvester gathering the rows of drying lucerne and converting them into bails of stock feed.
As I child I would stand in admiration of the men and women who laboured under the hot summer sun gathering the potatoes his digger would turn up for them to gather first in tin drums and then into large bags, filled to capacity and then tied ready for market.
Today human hands rarely touch the produce, though they still gather the water melons by hand when he harvests them much to our entertainment as the farmer swears and curses and constantly yells abuse at the slowness of his workers.
Over the years this vista, my ‘ocean view’ has remained, I never tire of looking at what is happening as each day there is some activity.
Soil tilled in love
Abounding in natures treasure