French la Vie

 

 

Glenn county, California during rice harvest.

Golden hues,

Indian summer, 

Red sunsets,

Farmers long days,

Memories of my Father, 

Now my brother.

Harvest.

At the first ray of light the farmer sets out for work, rice harvest is in full swing in the Sacramento Valley. Either Mother Nature has worked her wonder in their favor, or not… They know the moment their harvester's blades cut into the grain.

 

 

 

 

After the harvest the rice stalk remains. My nieces and nephews have a tradition in the Amaro's fields around my mother's home, after harvest they go out into the fields and each of them make a nest and pathways to those nest. They try to make the biggest nest possible. Rice stalks equal rice dust which is itchy…

This year as Chelsea is home visiting, she too became part of the harvest nest tradition.

My nieces send me snapchats daily, hence these photos are from Molly and Marie. 

 

 

 

 

 

Nest building is done by hand.

 

 

 

 

The nest usually are stalked as high as they are tall. They spend hours building and hanging out in them daydreaming.

 

 

 

 

Chelsea and my youngest brother Zane, (also her Godfather) driving the harvester. There is nothing like being in a small cab on a vintage harvester out in the middle of a golden crop shooting the breeze.

 

 

 

My nieces' photos show childhood, happy, true, country, family… Fun, happiness, creative playing, childhood un-interrupted.

It is as if I can smell their salty skin from playing in the fields, see their long hair tangled and free, watch them tease, argue, laugh over who's nest is the best, then run back to the house for my mother's cookies.

 

 

What was a game you played as a child?