I long for the smell of fresh turned soil , an experience I've never forgotten .. The smell of diesel , oil and greaseΒ Β ..The ringing of harrow and bush hog ... My Liberty overalls and size ten clod hoppers , suede cowboy hat , pocket watch and Bloodhound tobacco .. Bob White Quail walking the wood line waiting to get their fill of turned ground morsels , grains and grasshoppers .. Curious Whitetailed Deer hiding in the shadows , Redtailed Hawks with a keen eye for field rats escaping the plow .. A sixty two Massey Harris that ran like a' Top ' through rain and heat , never missing a beat ! My mind prays for the simple life of man and machine , the brushfires of March , the restoration of God's green earth ..
Copyright January 23 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved