The
fields across the road went through several changes today. In the morning, row
upon row of black lanes progressed from left to right – the plastic covering
that shields the plants from weeds and helps retain moisture. This morning,
only the sere stalks and remnant leftover of last autumn’s crop shown through
the orderly holes that occurred at intervals in the black lanes.
Fred
began pulling up the plastic in the midmorning, starting at the far end of each
row and lifting the edge enough until the wind caught underneath to pull the
rest. Long streams of plastic would catch like flags in the wind, shaking off
pieces of stuck soil and plant matter. After all was said and done, he packed
away the plastic, leaving only the brown of the fallow field, interspersed with
small rocks and cast off crops long since decomposed.
Later
in the day the tractor was out, spreading lime on the same field. Up and back
slowly it went, throwing the white powder in such a way that after it was
complete, the field looked as if a light dusting of snow had fallen there.
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