Last night was the Barley harvest. I have always been concerned about when to start it - I want to get the maximum amount, and not cut it too soon - yet it holds up valuable gardening space (although I believe I've finally started to figure out seasonally what to put where). The nice thing about this barley is that it turns black when it is ready to be harvested. That makes it pretty easy - even for me.
The other interesting things is that some volunteer wheat had crept in. I'm not one for ever wasting where I do not have too, so I had to cut around and through the wheat as well.
There is something calming about harvesting any grain: cutting it off near the stalk, hearing and feeling the semi dry or dry stalks as they come off into your hand, anticipating the final grain in your hand after all is done. It is, of course, easier if there is nothing to cut around - just go from right to left, grabbing the stalks in your left hand and cutting with your right, pulling them up, and then stacking them; then, going back for more. The cool evening breeze, the gradually reddening of the sun as it goes down, the rustle of the other barley and the wheat yet to be cut.
It doesn't get much better than that.
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