![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPDX_EgFspQWKuXYSgSudkKuQz1pz3FqosbxiCm8oJewTnC7HTH9areZJhxkJuNU-3sOVcUp_XhbvfnEOQTYdjxGdl_3k2H3iG98lk4gAQt-ONuclWg_U9py3dSAgLcuPmQk23PnOpz4Ms/s400/haying-the-fields.jpg)
My neighbors are haying the fields today. There's something about this summer ritual that puts a peaceful spell on me. The sound of tractors buzzing about and the smell of sweet grass makes summer come alive. I want to go outside and take in the big blue sky. I want to go to the brook and catch frogs. I want to lay in my hammock and daydream.
The funny thing is all their hard work and ambitious toil is making me very lazy. All I want to do is indulge in sleepy summertime fantasies.