I had forewarning yesterday afternoon that the wheat would be threshed today. I wasn't prepared, however, to wake up to the groaning of the motor. Farmers are early risers all over the world, I guess.
And so the job begins. I haven't seen threshing since my days working at the pioneer village. It was interesting to watch one fellow sew the bags shut as the next bag filled with grain. Two men had a tough time lugging a full bag a few meters. The spray of chaff stretched for 50 meters. That will be bagged later. Nothing goes to waste.
A lump formed in my throat when I noticed the woman scavenging for bits of grain in the field. In the past I've been moved by the painting "The Gleaners" (Millet, 1857) and its portrayal of women searching for the smallest bits to feed their families. Here was testament to the poverty of my neighbours.
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