I grew up on a farm in Cedarville, Ohio. When summer came my brother and sister and I were often placed on a blanket with a few toys for entertainment. We were expected to stay on or around that blanket while my Mother drove the tractor and baler with a wagon attached, my Dad would then grab the hay (or straw) bales and stack them neatly on the wagon. I don't remember my age at the time but certainly old enough to know the rules! Stay on the blanket.
I remember sometimes laying on that blanket in the shade of the trees that bordered the field, watching the big fluffy clouds drift off in the blue sky. Remember "seeing" animals in those clouds? All the while the rhythm of the baler sang it's song, sometimes softly as it traveled away to the other end of the field. And then as it got closer the sound became greater again. A song with which your heart found the beat and kept time with the baler.
I miss the old way of doing things on the farm, that makes me sound old. The machines to farm with were smaller, fields had fence lines with trees and grasses for critters to hide and nest. I have seen farm fields opened up with big bulldozers removing trees and all other life from those fence lines, all for the sake of planting a few more acres. Removing life as if it means nothing to anyone or anything. Removing the living rhythm of another kind from it's place on Mother Earth. Because of "advancements" in farming we lost wooden fencepost's that woodpeckers made holes in and bluebirds and tree swallows later made nest in those holes. Folks complain they don't see pheasants and rabbits like they use to, those fencing's made perfect cover for critters as they ran away from farm machinery. It has change the rhythm of their life.
I think of all these things while I lay in my hammock today............. daydreaming and listening to the rhythm of a baler singing a song from my childhood.