The annual gluten harvest is underway in northern Colorado.  Winter wheat planted last autumn has pushed through the soil, grown to produce a head of grains on every stalk, and finally, transitioned from a sea of lush green grass to the now dessicated amber waves of grain. Giant harvesting machines are cutting the short-statured hybrid crop and somehow rattling it into chaff and grain.

Now that we are avoiding gluten in our household, I view the wheat harvest a little differently. It is somebody else’s harvest.  It’s odd way to look at it I suppose.

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