The temperature today down at the farm is predicted to be 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40.6 degrees Celsius).

Uncle Joe sent some pictures over this way showing the corn harvest underway.

This first picture looks like Brother Charles in the combine heading out to fight the heat and rescue the yellow-gold seeds. That blue sky overhead sure is blue and those thin wisps of cloud a far piece away. Sun in store and plenty of it, I’d say. No need to worry about the rain. It’s time to get going and cutting and separating and loading and trucking and storing before the weather changes — as it always does. To paraphrase John Heywood’s 1546 Dialogue on the English Proverb of haymaking, “When the sun shines, make corn. Which is to say, take time when time comes, lest time steal away.” If Charles isn’t thinking that, he sure is doing it. Go Charles, get that corn!

Actually, the weather is perfect for the corn. Those “al dente” ears are basking and drying in their tropical paradise of heat. (A ripe ear of field corn has a small indentation or “dent” on the crown of each kernel – so the Italian phraseology for perfectly cooked pasta is somewhat appropriate for perfectly dried corn.) In this baking weather, it’s the people, not the corn, I worry about. When the digits triple, it’s best to rest, when you can, in the air-conditioned cab of the tractor and enjoy the view. That combine will be back to fill up the grain wagon. There will be plenty of work to do – always is; but if you can, take advantage of the cooling conveniences of modern farming. Ahh, the joys of technology . . .

. . . are short lived. Now, the brothers are in the midst of it. That combine is off in the distance chugging across the rows with the yellow-gold seeds mounding on top. There’s the tractor rolling down the hill with the grain wagon in tow, getting re-positioned for the next transfer. Across the cleared portions of the field, you can see the shadows lengthening. It’s been a productive day. Uncle Joe says the yields have been pretty good so far, as much as 100 bushels to the acre, which is an excellent crop in Central Texas. “Only thing,” Joe says, “is a big old hog.” Apparently, that Daddy Pig could see the harvest coming, and he organized all the other wild piggies for a last-night-in-the-field party. Those feral pigs can apparently eat a lot when they put their stomachs to it. Uncle Joe was not too pleased, and though he may say, “It is what it is,” if I were those pigs, I’d stay clear of one farmer for while.

Back at the main house, the corn field is waiting. Its turn is coming. In the sky, you can see someone is getting some relief from the heat. That’s a late afternoon thunder-boomer with its tail of rainbow crossing the Texas prairies. Not enough rain to slow the harvest, but a welcome, if brief, respite from the summer heat.

Maybe, Uncle Joe and Charles will break early and head back. I doubt it. You know what they say: Make corn while the sun shines. Or something like that. It’s an old phrase, but it works just fine today.

Grandpa Jim

A new month has started. From July to August, we keep moving forward. Daylight is shortening here in the Northern Hemisphere. I notice the dark longer in the morning and earlier at night. Today, we’re six weeks past the summer solstice. A new window is opening on the seasons of our lives.

To show the way, I like this window from the old barn down on Uncle Joe’s farm.

As I wandered the farmyard last month, I stopped to lean against a new roll of baled hay. Across the gravel, the maize (sorghum or milo, as it’s also called) was ripening into the distance.

I stepped across the lane to examine closer the burnt-orange panicles of paired spikelets with the small sorghum seeds drying in the sun.

The yesterday-news is that Uncle Joe has finished harvesting the sorghum. On the top of the hill, a few of the stalks had fallen in the winds and rain of mid-July. We had a week of rain, unusual weather for July, and it happened when the sorghum had peaked and was ready for the combine. Joe says yields will be down. Grain is left behind in the fields. Foraging animals, domestic and wild, will be happy with the fallen bounty.

As Uncle Joe says, “It is what is.”

And so it is on the farm, rain or shine, a hay-swirl of continuing activity.

Next up is the corn. I caught these July tassels waving in the warm summer wind.

Below the tassels, the ears were drying in their parchment shucks, the top-knot silk on each ear darkened to a stylish hairdo reflecting the smug age and growing maturity of the primping crop.

Now, the ears are ready. Mary tells me Uncle Joe and Brother Charles started harvesting the corn this last week.

About the only things resting down there on the farm are the watermelon-colored crape myrtles or lagerstroemia blooming back at the house. MeMaw always kept some of the heat-loving crapes out front to brighten the yard.

That’s not to say there’s no time for fun on the farm.

Here’s Uncle Joe giving rides in the big tractor with cab to the nephews and nieces. You can see the maize is still up in the background, watching the fun under the setting sun.

Sailors say, “Red sky at night, sailors’ delight; red sky at morning, sailors’ warning.”

As the sun dipped to night, golden red hands in the evening sky lifted and glowed with a promise for the morrow’s day.

In the field next to that old barn with its window to another day, it seemed the corn was waving goodnight and welcome at the same time.

As I’m sure MeMaw arranged, the next days were gorgeous and bright for the relatives to gather and say their final goodbyes. The rains waited for later in the month when they were most needed for the cotton and not so for the maize, but that always the way of things down in the country.

As Uncle Joe says so well, “It is what it is.”

And, we’re glad for that.

Grandpa Jim