From the life of a farmer

A few days ago hiking the road seen in the main picture looking up at my village, I saw a plowman plowing the land in the old-fashioned way. I knew it was my family godfather Slavko plowing his country. I hurried to perpetuate this difficult life of the peasants.There was no other way but to reach the uphill and dense forest before the plowing was over.When I broke out of the woods, breathlessly I made the first picture.That is why it is more unclear than the others. Of course, my godfather was happy and stopped plowing. It was good for him and his horses to rest. Especially for the horses, he had to put a gear on his head because they went too fast for him and bit each other. (One would think that these are covid masks). We talked a little, had a drink, but then each of us had to move on.I hike, and the godfather continue to plow. Unfortunately, we are not aware that even today in the 21st century there are people who live hard. Of course, these are exceptions. The reason is the steep and inaccessible terrain for modern equipment, and the prices of the service would be inaccessible.

Traditionally in the village of Mokri Lug (by the way: Mokri lug would mean Wet ashes in translation although it is a waterless village in which the population is supplied with rainwater) to save themselves from oblivion former way of life, mowing days are held at the beginning of July. This year, about 30 mowers took part. The oldest reaper, Mirko Vuković, was one of four generations of his family. I tried to show the entire flow of mowing. Of course, some wanted me to photograph them. At the end, a well-deserved feast and socializing awaits them.