Farm fields zing past as Doc and I drive beach bound. Cotton fields birthing green though brown tilled fields promise a good harvest in the fall. A few fields appear as a blanket of green with red polka-dots as far as you can see.
“Those are fallow fields” Doc offers, and I stretch across him to get a better view from his driver’s side window.
“ They are growing red clover?” I look over my shoulder at him.
“Yes, fallow fields are fields set apart for rest. Clover is planted to prevent erosion, as well as giving the soil nitrogen needed for the next growing season.
Sliding back into my seat and fastening the safety belt, my thoughts wander to fallow fields.
Every few years, farmers will fallow a field for a year or more, and I wonder if the field realizes that “fallow” is “hallowed” to the farmer…set aside for a special use, known only by the farmer.
It’s not long before the air holds the fragrance of misty salt, and sea gulls are seen gliding as if there is not one worry to hold them down.
Today I am over visiting my friends at Outside the City Gates. Would you come over and leave a comment, because they really make my day!
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