I’m not sure what it is about seeing freshly baled hay in a green field that makes my heart happy. Surely we’ll never move again but if we do, I think another requirement for where we move will be that they have to be able to grow hay.
We’ll be driving down the road and I’ll see hay and sometimes, even before I see it, Vince will say “No! I’m not stopping for a picture.” We were returning home this morning and passed this field. It’s less than a mile from our house so I see it often. I looked over at it and kinda sighed and Vince said “There’s no place to pull over and stop!” I said “That’s ok .. I’ll take a picture while we’re moving.
Maybe it reminds me of the time spent in the country at my grandma’s. Maybe it’s a correlation to my dislike for cities. I don’t know but I think one of my happy places would be in an air conditioned cabin, with a stream within view and looking out over a field of baled hay.
My friend that lives near me does live on a stream and they do have baled hay in their front field. She definitely has a beautiful spot but I think she doesn’t like her husband leaving the hay bales out so I’m sure they’ll disappear from my view soon.