Hundreds of hay bales sit in the fields. These round bales are not like the square or rectangular bales that are usually stored in a barn. These bales are huge. They may not look it from the photo, but they are quite large, much bigger than any square bale you’ve ever seen. It is inevitable that the weather will destroy some of the hay, but usually just the outside part of the bale if it’s tightly packed. The inside will be fine. But still, there will be some loss.
It’s hard to think of the vast fields of green that produced these frozen bales. There is a tremendous amount of plant material in each bale. I wonder if the grass could talk what it would say. Surely, it never dreamed of such conditions. When driving down a pleasant country road in summer where the insects are buzzing and the sun is shining and everything is lush and green, you never think of the frozen bales in the field. How is it possible? When everything is so green and so full of life, how is it possible that such devastation could occur?
But deep within the bales, a great deal of nutrition is stored. The sun has been captured by the plant life and harvested at his peak, and before the sun had a chance to escape, he was rolled tightly within his prison of hay. Now he waits patiently, knowing he will be freed sooner or later, but grateful for the round design that keeps him warm inside. The animals in the field cannot scrounge this kind of nutrition in this kind of weather no matter how hard they try. They are grateful for the sun’s captivity.
It’s all latent, though. Just potential. For all practical purposes and appearances, everything is dead. We have a long way to go from potentiality to actuality. That part we can only dream of. It is the sun that creates that kind of magic, not us, but we must know how to open the cage to make use of it.