Harvest time, that time of the year when the seasons are obviously moving on from summer to autumn.
On Saturday evening I finished a walk with Tia by climbing Croft Hill, stopping to chat with another dog walker at the top. I had heard the roar of a combine as a climbed the slope, and from the “summit” could see that a combine was working the field behind our house, moving clockwise around the field edge at the start of a series of ever decreasing circles.
By the time that we got into our back garden the combine was rounding the corner at the end of our neighbour’s garden and trundling directly towards our garden fence, perfect for photos before it did a right wheel along the back of the neighbour’s gardens.
By Sunday lunchtime the field was harvested, the straw rolled into giant bales, and the harvester was emptying grain into a trailer on the next field.
This is the industrial side of living in the countryside.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
