Well, the title of this post has nothing to do with anything, really.
No, there is no one in the crops waiting to catch the running children right on the edge. I just thought, when I saw the golden field with the sun shining down on it, J.D. Salinger had something in his mind not too far from the image above when he wrote his masterpiece. Except it's not a rye field you are looking at here. The crops happen to be rice, in my parents' neighborhood, ready to be harvested.
Just something I stumbled upon on my lovely day off one autumn day.
Until next time,