The Moon Hidden in Patches of Clouds —- Thursday, October 17, 2019

We are in Indian Summer now.  The days warm up and the night cool way down.

Sometimes Terry and I go for wee night rides, over the dusty ground, in the silence of the land.

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,

Linda

New Crop Being Grown—-Wednesday, October 17, 2018

We have a new crop being tested about two miles from our farm.

Now you MUST understand it is NOT us raising these test acres of Hemp, but three of our neighbors close by.

The above is one of the test fields almost ready to harvest.  Hemp looks like little furry Christmas trees, or (to my eye) Kochia weed. (I don’t know if I spelled that right)

One of the growers allowed us to go into the field and look at the plants.  They are very sticky.  You put your hand on the plant and it feels like fly paper (sort of) and it has a very distinctive smell.

It’s harvest time now.  This is one of the combines/tractors used to harvest the hemp. (This hemp will be used to create CBD oil…although there are other uses for hemp, i.e. rope, material, and many other things. ( I am still learning about all this)

Here the combines/tractors have just entered the field to begin harvest

The tractor/combine cuts off the plant and conveyor the fluffy plant into the back of the truck.  The truck is driven along side of the tractor, both pieces of equipment moving along together up and down the row until the truck bed is full.

 The truck then hauls it to a metal building with a cement floor

Where it is allowed to dry for two days.

NOW after this point, I don’t know what happens. I don’t know how they remove the oil, I don’t know anything.  Maybe I will get to see, and if I do I will ask permission to show you.  Other than that…this is the harvesting of the new crop in town….called Hemp.

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,

Linda

 

 

 

The Pulsing Ebb and Flow of Light Filled Wonder—Tuesday, October 17, 2017

This world is a wonder…really!  Every single day —  trapped in ordinariness–the little sparks of joy are softly veiled waiting for us to see them

Like the fluttering of a leaf on the wind

Or a ride in a stormy night

Our days move minute by minute, in a deep humming, like webs of music — and our beating hearts

If we just take the time to look, feel and listen —there in the silence, which really isn’t silent

Wonder is there— in the sparkle of the lasting stars, at the moon’s edge, in the black silver night

 

The glimpses of beauty are there.

From my world to your heart,

Linda