Our neighbour, the farmer, is spending long hours on his plow these days; I catch glimpses of him roaming up and down the field to the right of us. Sometimes I can hear the whine of one machine or another. He must at the end of the day look at the miles of perfectly straight lines and feel great satisfaction. It makes me think about how the earth gets planted and then replanted over and over and still manages to grow more. I'm in awe of that.
I've had this Carlyle quote in my notebook for a few years; this year it finally seems very appropriate.
Long stormy spring-time
wet, contentious April,
winter chilling the lap of very May,
but at length the season of summer does come.