The last harvest

I went for a drive on Tuesday. 

I dropped a forgotten cake at my mother's work. daughter of the year award right there.

I went the round about way back to the farm, looking and dreaming for Mr Sparky and myself.

Not too far from my final destination I got a little sidetracked by some farming action (surprise, surprise).

Someone was harvesting. Now my title is probably taking liberties but there aren't many paddocks around that haven't already been done. It is the end of the season, for that crop.

This is a paddock of sorghum, if you want to know more ... sorry, I don't have a clue. 

I do know that sometimes a forage variety is grown on the family farm which means it is grown for the cattle to eat out in the paddock and some is baled for hay as well. I think oats are planted here at the moment for the same use. Informative aren't I.

So anyway, this is ripe sorghum, ready to harvest, dry and dead.

The seed is reddish in colour.

This lot is particularly dry, look at all the dust coming off it.

When I looked in my hair later I found parts of dry, flaky husks.

Despite the fact that I grew up around this, I never really paid attention to it. Who does as a kid and teen.

Now I find it all interesting but actually coming across someone harvesting, despite the amount that happens, is a giant fluke.

But now I have some harvest pics to add to my collection, Yay!

Actually sugar cane harvest should be starting pretty soon up north, if it hasn't already. Maybe that will give me another chance.

Mind you the machinery is a lot different, the concept is the same though ... to get what has been produced so it can be taken to another place to be processed and moved to where it is needed..

Actually, while watching, I discovered that these harvesters have a really tight turning circle. You wouldn't think it to look at them but they turn easier than some cars, well they seem to anyway.

 I'm not sure what the poor fellow driving thought of someone stopping to take a zillion photos of him working.

It turns out my step father knows who it is, but then he knows who everyone is, well nearly everyone, just like most people who grew up and lived in a rural community do. That really is the awesome thing about living in one.

I wonder where this grain is headed?