The farm at sunrise.

Back in February when things were gearing up, this job was pretty much a nine-to-five gig. Since then, the start time has been creeping forward steadily. Michael gave word last week that harvest days would now start at six-thirty. That makes for a long day, but mornings like this morning compensate for it.

When we arrived at the farm, the sun had just risen, slanting across the mist-shrouded fields and firing the trees along the fencerows all golden. The cottonwood tree by the swing set in the yard was full of birds -- I couldn't tell what kind -- and they flew in and out of the branches in clusters and sang as they flew. The early coolness yet promised a hot afternoon, and, all around us, the fields rested, waiting for us to fill them with our work.

That's how my day started. It ended with me nearly tipping half our irrigation pipes and their trailer into the ditch. Sometimes, that's how things go.