I was driving down a trail on the edge of a Winter Wheat field earlier this week, when I came upon a weed patch containing wild daisies.
It brought me back to a happy time when I attempted to bring the wheat field to the city for a special occasion. Winter wheat heads are relatively sturdy and its straw is tough. It relatively easy to work with. A spritz of water freshens it.
No matter what a mere mortal would do, it could not compare to the splendor of a wheat field standing with wild flowers.
But the wheat that year was lush, the heads were big and perfect. No scab to be found in any of our fields. This winter wheat was among the best wheat we have ever raised.
Perfect wheat was a blessing, of course, because the trail of life is seldom a smooth path.
Most of the month of July was spent gathering beautiful wheat and manipulating it into decorative pieces.
Things in nature cannot be duplicated.
But with meticulous work, we tried to contain the beauty of the field.
The process involved cutting, curing, assembling, preserving, accessorizing, transporting and displaying the wheat creations that reflected our way of life.
As the wreaths were placed, the excitement of the occasion was building.
The fields had been harvested months before, the season had changed.
The wheat stood on the lace
and hung against the wood.
and guarded the steps.
The wheat was witness to the past mingled with the future.
The wheat, and the camera, I suppose, brought a smile to many faces.
It contrasted well with the sparkle of the happy occasion.
Wild flowers along the path bring loveliness for a moment, but raising a wheat crop takes planning and a rock solid commitment.
And so, the wheat was a metaphor for life beyond the splendor of the day.
And that is what I saw along the trail in GriggsDakota.