A memory of mowing our rye field at the southern end of the Papyvesis Valley, late summer 2
Not for sale
Let me share with you my very old, personal memories of how I once spent the days of my early youth and what adventures I experienced during that time. And again, I will talk about the further events of that same summer of 2002 in my family and home life, and especially that one specific one, which I had already started to tell about the evening of rye cutting in my village. So, what happened next? Since my childhood, I have always been extremely fascinated by the sight of the grain combine rotating and roaring through the fields during the harvest, and this was no exception even when I was already considerably older, almost a full-grown man. While this old combine harvester "Yenisey" driven by a man from Bakšėnai, with all its mechanisms making a loud noise, was spinning its wheels across this very yellowed rye field, doing its threshing work, I myself was also walking from various directions along the back edge of the Papyvesis valley of the village, right along the ravine, also keen
