I missed harvest this year.... which makes me kinda sad and just a touch sentimental. This picture is from a few years back. It is hot. It is dusty. The combines are air-conditioned... the trucks are not. That header I am looking at out the window? It is worth more money than I am.... and we are moving.... and the combine driver is dumping wheat in my box. (ha-ha-ha... I just said, "in my box" on the internet.) This truck has a name. All good trucks have a name. This one is called, "The Purple Peter Beater." Why? Well, it was the purple people-beater until my mom made an unfortunate slip of the tongue. She's a rough-riding rig and the cab is directly over the engine which means you can pretty much bake cookies on the console. It runs normally at 300 degrees... I'm not kidding. It is so hot that the dog won't ride with me.... he goes and mooches a ride in the combine.
This set of pictures (what I could load before I hit my flickr limit) has some special meaning to me. See, I had just suffered a miscarriage.... a miscarriage following a long period of trying to get pregnant.... and I was feeling pretty raw. Spending long hours in that old truck staring out at a dusty landscape was soothing to me somehow. It helped heal me. Healing comes in many shapes and forms. Here's hoping that, if you need it, you find the healing you are looking for... and don't be afraid to look for it in strange places.....
3 comments:
All right, you got your truck pictures up!
Happy to hear you got some healing by staring at the land.
That last part...that was beautiful, Homestead. Thank you.
I love your pictures, and your blog has become one of my favorites. I have sweet memories of an ancient blue Ford- it was dented on both sides from breaking up fights between Black Angus Bulls. And somehow, remembering rattling down rutted dirt roads in that old truck takes me where I need to go when I feel lost.
Post a Comment