Fields of wheat and barley grow quietly along either side of the footpaths I travel. Still beautiful, these grains no longer look grass-like; their identities now obvious.
The wheat is big and coarse; a bit prickly. The barley is softer, with long feathers called "awns"; the wind blows across it in spectacular waves.
Harvest is coming soon—early August. I am literally watching the seasons change. Amazing.
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