When I looked out our upstairs windows this morning, I started thinking about the farmer with his grass cut and lying in windrows. This might be his last crop off this field. The plans are all drawn up for streets and new homes. He rents the land and has always known it is inescapably in the path of development.

The grass was cut last week at night when it was least likely to drop the seeds that are now waiting for the right time to be separated from the stalks by a combine. The weatherman is saying we could get showers today and tomorrow. So the farmer is carefully doing his own reading of the sky. Is the potential damage of a couple of showers better than a slightly premature harvest of the grass seed?

I cherish my experience growing up on a farm, but looking out my upstairs window is close enough to the vulnerabilities of farming for me.