A person never knows when visitors will drop-in.
Last Friday, I forgot friends were going to stop by. Bob had just come up from loading hay bales. My hubby wasn't in the greatest of moods. A wasp had been disturbed when he moved a bale and WHAM-O, it stung him. By the time he got to the house, the side of his face was swollen.
Ice took down the swelling so he was looking himself when our friends drove into the yard. As we were visiting outside, hot air balloons drifted to the south of us. That sure was a pretty addition to the evening.
The following day, Bob and I intended to drive into Seymour for the balloon rally and glow at dusk. That plan changed when combining began in our wheat field.
Bob went out to watch the machine work. When I came out to check up on him, more balloons were in the sky. I got my camera — being northwest of town didn't give me high hopes for getting a close photo, but I hoped to get one of the many balloons come over our farm.
It seemed like all the balloons were slowly heading north and would fly east of us, but as we watched, they got bigger and bigger. They were heading our way! (Click, click went my camera.)
Soon a car pulling a trailer came down our road. "Do you own this field? And can we land there?"
We answered "Yes" to both questions.
Our eyes were fastened to the sky as not one, not two, but three (nearly four) balloons headed in our direction. Not all the wheat had been harvested, but they assured us they had plenty of room to land, and they added that they wouldn't land on the combine either.
One after another, the balloons touched down on our lane next to the harvested wheat — the grass lane was softer for landing than the prickly wheat stubble.
I went here and there, trying to get a photo with our farm buildings behind the balloons. Then I turned toward the sunset to get a photo of the combine near the balloons, with the sun behind both.
There was a lot going on. The fourth balloon never made it to our field and ended up in a neighbor's. Others flew past.
These were all great pilots. They worked so hard not to land in our soybeans, which were on the other side of the lane. Bob and I admired how they could jockey around the airships, even dropping a line to the ground to be walked over to the best possible landing space. It was very interesting and beautiful.
When all was done, we didn't go into town for the glow. We had one of our own in our field.
An even stranger thing happened the next morning. Three more balloons landed here. One pilot explained how the upper winds were taking them north from town, but when they got closer to the ground, there was an east wind and they took a left turn to our place again — two of those three morning balloons had been there the previous evening.
More pictures, this time with a sunrise instead of a sunset.
It was a great way to begin our day, but it put our schedule off a half-hour. We were heading to Madison to drop in on a very special new relative.
Three days prior, our son Russell and his wife Cynthia, brought a new Manzke into the world — a new grandson for us. We were on our way to hold Harrison Russell Manzke for the very first time. A healthy 7 pounds 1 ounce, Harrison has blue eyes and a lot of strawberry-blonde hair. You can be sure the whole Manzke clan is very happy he dropped into our lives. Welcome to the world, Harrison.