The half cut field of new hay was quiet as we drove by.
The rolls and bales of newly cut hay were scattered all around.
(no discernable pattern.)
Under the light of the coming dawn,
and the still visible moon the scene had a rural, earthy quality, a pastoral tribute to a time gone by.
Bright harvest moon signalling the ending of one phase and the begining of a new one.
The silence of the field would be interrupted later by mechnaical tractors,
back and forth, in rows,
then wagons to pick up the massive rolls and put them onto trucks.
(sold later for thirty and forty dollars each.)
Later the harvest moon would be replaced by the sun,
losing some of its intense summer grip,
turning the green hay more and more brown and more and more dry by the hour.