W is for…

teeny-tiny-w

Yesterday, I skimmed through “w” in the dictionary and found “weaving.”

That word immediately paired itself up with “wheat” in my head and pulled me back to the 1970’s when people in my part of the world were rediscovering that folk art.

There was no better place to weave wheat than where I grew up—the fertile flat land east of the northern Rockies and south of the Canadian Line—an area known as “The Golden Triangle” because of all the grain grown there.  A few years ago, during a Montana Artrepreneur Program workshop, I saw artist Janet Christenot’s jaw-droppingly beautiful woven-wheat sculptures (you should google her—wow)!  Ms. Christenot lives and makes her art about sixty miles northeast of my family’s farm, in another corner of the Triangle.

Even before I went dictionary diving, wheat had been on my mind. I teach adult basic education, and one of my students who comes from a farming family told me he likes to watch harvesting videos on YouTube during the winter. My dad would have loved that. Like my student, Dad’s favorite time of year was the late summer-early fall when the grain he’d slaved over all spring and summer was finally cut and hauled to storage in the steel bins.

And here we are with Annicka, almost at the end of the alphabet and ready, like farmers everywhere, to make the turn toward autumn once again.

What can I say?

It’s wonderful.