Blessed be those who cut silage early

Ten o’clock last Sunday morning, and I’m standing on the edge of a nine-acre silage field.

To my left sits a big John Deere tractor with an auto swarther mower, to my right another John Deere and mower. But both are silent.

A jeep sweeps across an adjoining field and bounces through the gap to where I stand, sending water splashing from a puddle.