This isn't even our farm, but of course I haven't managed to get a picture of our farm from above when people are working, and I rather like this scene of this field corn in the valley.
From the road, we resemble worker ants. Five of us: crawling over the surface of the farm, hovering here and there before moving on. Sometimes, all five of us are in one spot, sometimes, we’re all in different spots. I suppose we’re not all that unlike ants--bustling around for food and survival. Or bees. Bees moving from crop to crop, gathering pollen to farm honey so they can survive the winter. We’re constantly moving, tending and harvesting crops so we, too, can survive the winter. It’s a cool thing to witness, actually, if you ever have the time to just sit at the top of the hill and watch us work sometime. Pure Thoreau euphoria. If only I had witnessed it before we named the farm after the creek that runs through it.