Harvest time at the homestead.
For weeks now the trucks, tractors, and harvesters rumbled by, but this morning the distinct sound of stopping brought my dad and me out of the house at the same time. Him, to watch and reminisce, me to keep him company on the golf cart and capture the essence of corn picking in photographs.
He has always loved the land.
"You crown the year with a bountiful harvest;
even the hard pathways overflow with abundance." Psalm 65:1
Heaven can't be far away
From the fields of gold where I was raised
Where the sun shines bright
But the light comes from the word
Where you know you reap the seeds you sow
You count your blessings row by row
And sweat and blood and tears and love still work
The life I live, the love I give, the man I am
Shadows of the heartland