General

The gold fields of our district work like a sedative for the citizens. They mean the harvest is in, the grain silos are full, the animals will be fed and so will your families. The stress melts out of the air and is replaced by preparations for the harvest carnival. Every season I take my paints to those fields and try to capture what they mean to our community, to our survival. I don't think I ever do it justice, but I try. The pictures are snatched up by eager friends and family as fast as they dry, then hung in pride of place by the family dinner table. They remind us to thank God for the food in our bellies and pray that next year He is as beneficent.

By hassan58, October 4, 2014.
General

The late summer fields stretched lazily across the billowing hills, a beautiful patchwork of gold stubble and green pasture. Those golden squares, glowing in the dying summer sun, were a blessing and a curse to the children of the village. They signified the end of hard physical labor, but they also meant the start of school and a whole different kind of work and sweat. The school master was ex-military. He'd been injured in the war and now walked with a cane, which could be used to beat anyone not answering questions fast enough or not printing neatly.

By terripotts20, October 6, 2014.