Day by day the horizon line reaches further and further. The withered corn is in harvest and visibility stretches for miles. I'm always reminded of my grandfather when I pass a combine offloading corn into grain haulers. It's the smell that brings me back to the day of being in the combine with my Grandpa Ted.
Sorry for all the pictures of my gay bike. I ride by myself 90 percent of the time so when I see something beautiful I put my bike in front of it and take a snap.