Fall on the farm
The agrarian landscape has sunk into my genes. I often take it for granted that other people see what I see, that my home is their home. But that is not true. This is a special time of year to be at home. I may not have the mountains or the oceans, the hills or the hollers. But I am able to take in the golden wheat, the burnt umber bean fields, the straw-colored cornstalks, and the red grasses. The humble ash tree can put on quite a show when conditions are right. You have never seen such a variety of earth tones! There are fewer farmers now, fewer farm lots, as bigger and bigger machines dominate the soil. But the colors remain.
