Sunflowers

It’s as though the world has been wrapped in cling film (Saran wrap), as an unbroken film of cloud cossets the world beneath. Barley stands ripe in the field round us, awaiting the combine harvester. The cows seem to be corralled in the correct field this morning, so all’s well, and quiet, in this corner of the world.

Maybe today I’m hunkering down in ‘Time Out’. It’s been busy, and sometimes these old bones and joints let me know it’s been a bit busier than usual. So I have hopes today of spending some time writing. 

And the sunflowers? Aren’t they glorious? Our neighbouring farmer has grown a field of them again and to give him a plug – he’s selling them for 50p a bloom, from the farm. 

There is a connection between a time out, and sunflowers. Thinking of the way the sunflowers keep their happy faces turned towards the sun as it traces its path through the sky, today I plan to keep my face towards the Son in every job I have to do, and in every word I write.

Blessings.

The grass really is greener...

Sometimes the grass really is greener on the other side.

I watched the cows parade through the field towards the gate leading into the next field. They were knee-high in scrub and briars, ankle deep in marsh, and the little grass that was there had been nibbled to the roots.

Yes, the field beyond beckoned. Planted in barley (I think), it tempted and tantalised the cows but the fence was just too high. They are still in the scrub tonight, chewing a bitter cud.

One day that gate, or another into an equally green field, will be opened for those cows and they will delight in a richer diet. The farmer hasn’t forgotten them. He’s just got the bigger perspective, and he knows what’s good for that herd.

We can all get stuck in the scrubland for a season, but God doesn’t forget us. He knows what’s right for us and when, and at just the right moment the gate will open and we will delight ourselves in the lush beauty of new pastures.