Sounds of autumn in farm country: roaring engines of huge tractors and JCBs as they rearrange hundreds of straw rolls into what one little piggy might once have called a house – and probably a few mice will call home over the winter months. It’s a huge, probably tedious task, shifting bales, two by two.
The sky is shades of grey, nearly purple, and white, and the trees are in glorious states of preparation for the final drop. We dug up the last few tatties this afternoon, and the crop of rather stumpy carrots. Sigh. Was it worth it?
Brambles are few and far between this autumn, for some reason, but the Bramley apples are plentiful. Lots of crumbles, pies, cakes, sauce, and even apple butter coming up – but not without effort. Having trouble with my hands so the peeling will be a joint effort, Don having valiantly volunteered. Just wait til he discovers how tedious apple-peeling can be!
Preparing, storing up, for the onslaught to come. I’m reminded that I must make an effort, yet again, to store up divine truths that will feed my spirit during any tough times that may lie ahead.
You just never know.
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