ABSTRACT
It is summer once more. The hot sun goads the farmers into a flurry of activity. First they cut down their winter barley crops and load the sheaves onto carts. In just a few days’ time all the upland fields have been harvested. Then the weather changes, and for days on end rain falls steadily until even the aphids infesting the yellowing plum blossoms have been washed away. The newly planted bean and upland rice seedlings in the barley fields thirstily drink in the cool water and gather strength. Within a few days the soil in the fields is carpeted with their green leaves. Even the trampled down soil in the farmers’ yards shows renewed signs of life as the rains bring forth tiny yellow blossoms on the nasturtiums and crowfoots, and on the ridgepoles of their houses grass begins to shoot up once more. Nature is intent upon covering every bit of soil with color. The only resistance it meets is in the rice paddies, carefully cleared and cultivated by the farmers. As time passes and still the paddies remain bare, nature grows impatient. Heavy rains fall, filling the shallow fields and submerging the weeds in the nearby ditches. At last it is time to plant. Knowing that even a single additional day of growing time will increase their harvest the following autumn, the farmers must work as quickly as they can. Abandoning all other chores they drive their horses through the flooded paddies until the soil is just the right consistency. Then with straw capes on their backs to keep off the rain they wade carefully across the fields, thrusting seedlings down into the mud. Though soaking wet they sing happily as they work. One by one the paddies turn pale green. By the time all the planting is done the seedlings have deepened in color, as if nature had applied a powerful dye, and grasses have sprouted on the ridges between the fields. Nowhere is the dark soil visible. Satisfied at last, nature clears the sky of clouds and sends bright, warm sunlight down onto the countryside. Day lilies begin to bloom here and there on the ridges, giving color to the fields even on days when young women from the village do not come to weed the paddies. Now is the time for Sanaburi, the end-of-planting feasts to celebrate completion of the major task in growing rice and to reward people for the back-breaking labor they have performed.
