I live in a place with lots of small farms. On my drive home I passed a couple of fields where they were cutting and baling hay. Thinking about harvest, even after this dry dry summer.
I have been feeling very uninspired and even not wanting to draw lately. But according to my practice I sit and start drawing and try to get that inner chorus of critics and helpful suggestors to go sit in another room while the part of me that has no words comes up with some kind of image.
I hope they are interesting enough, and at least speak in the language of dreams.