Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie or other critters.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), and several Kindle ebooks.

Tuesday, September 05, 2017

Cutting Corn 2017

Across the nation bad things are happening—floods in Texas, wildfire in Montana and other states out west, the threat of deportation for hundreds of thousands of immigrants, the threat of nuclear war with North Korea.

In my neighborhood, about all that's appening is corn being cut for silage. The field across from me was cut yesterday. Last week ago, the GMO corn (which needs an application of Round-Up to grow) towered over the road.


Yesterday, the cutting began.



I'd been taking a nap when the rumbling of a tractor and trucks woke me up. A truck pulls alongside the tractor that's cutting the corn.


When the truck is full, it moves away and another takes its place.



Meanwhile the tractor keeps moving. So does a truck.




And the pattern repeats. Over and over. . . . 




By evening, most of the field is bare.


Silage blown off from the over-filled trucks litters the road.


Today, except for a few stalks that the tractor missed, the field is bare.


Except for a few buzzards that glean any little critters killed in the harvest.


This corn silage will be used to feed the cattle at a big dairy farm down the road. Of course, traces of  the glyphosate needed to grow the genetically modified corn will end up in the milk

And it will end up in the milk drinkers, too.
~

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