During the summer I spend a good chunk of my time looking out the window while I work…and think.
Sometimes I let other noises besides my inner voice like the radio, break into my long train of thoughts. I absorb enough news on the radio to last me for another whole year when I’m windrowing.
I’m a bad station changer (the equivalent of guys who like to channel surf) and messing with the old style radio dial is not conducive to operating our windrower simultaneously.
The slightest move of the steering wheel and I’m all crooked and missing what I’m supposed to be cutting.
While bouncing in my office chair, the majority of my work entails keeping both hands on the steering wheel which I don’t enjoy having to do. I work diligently at trying to cut a swath as straight as possible and making good turns but I fail at these horribly. I also have to be on the lookout for rocks.
It’s important to dodge them so I don’t have to deal with replacing broken section teeth as a result of hitting or dragging a rock.
Dragging a rock under the head or breaking a section tooth can leave a strip of uncut grass behind which the boss is doesn’t like to see and I don’t want to have to deal with him either.
My favorite view looking out of the window from my office chair is being perched high above the ground and watching the tall brome grass ripple in waves as the wind skiffs across the work space in front of me.
Back and forth, back and forth I cut, sometimes until I get so interested in my inner voice’s conversations that I can’t remember if I turned around to go back in the opposite direction like I’m supposed to or just kept going in a circle (which I have done before).
The motion of the windrower gets into a rhythm and so does my mind as I listen to the thrumming sound while I watch the cut hay get augured into the conditioner and spit out the back.
It’s most definitely a refreshing view from the wintertime scenery from my house windows. I like the changing view out of my office window.
But then again, the novelty wears off after a while.