The storyteller was there to begin with. He used the fire, he used his voice; he used shadows and monsters, and he used poetry and music. And all those things worked on the audience.
~ Ken Kesey
Living in the middle of a couple hundred acres of grass (the lawn type... ) I've come to measure my year in ways I haven't before. In the late fall, winter and early spring my weekend alarm clock is the blast of shotguns from the goose hunters. In summers... the same as its always been... the shine of that burning ball at the center of our galaxy (and to think, Galileo was prosecuted for that common sense notion, whatever... ).
But here at home along with that bright ball occasionally comes the sounds of machinery. Usually tho' the folks who do the cutting and combining are come and gone almost before I notice.
The combining is a dry and dusty task that takes place here in the Willamette Valley from Eugene in the south to Portland in the north (and even tho' people here say they are driving "up" to Portland, in actuality they driving "down" to Portland, speaking in terms of high to low rather than north to south). And every summer the valley fills with dust when the combines are running, seperating out the grass seed.
The other day the combine crew -- all 2 of 'em -- were busy raising the dust around the place. So I had to go out and shoot 'em... heh...
... with my camera...
The following pictures are from the other day. The combine drivers are 2 teens from Harrisburg, Sam and Shawn. Sam is 18, Shawn 17 and both will be seniors this year. The combines are John Deeres... a 7720 and a 9500, air conditioned and stereos. Unfortunately Shawn's radio suffered from a broken antenna and he had to listen to his own singing... ouch!
So here is a visual slice of summer here in the Willamette Valley, just a couple of Oregon folks, working: