My sisters and I were the hired help on our west Nebraska wheat farm every summer. I have many fond memories of wheat harvest which may be why tracks in the wheat stubble are beautiful to me. Before these tracks appeared, there was a tilled field that was planted by my dad and watered by our Maker. There was a baking hot sun to grow the seed and a dry wind to whisper through it. After the combines shussed and the trucks rumbled, all that remains are tracks like these, evidence of love and care for a growing farm family.
- Subject Matter: Landscape