The Sage Harvesters

 

From strict appearances, they looked like typical agricultural laborers, both completely covered up to protect from the sun, with large harvest bags slung over their shoulders stuffed with the fruits, or in this case leaves, of their labors.

I imagine they must have been quite pungent by the end of the work evening. After all, as I passed along the trail where they were busy cutting leaves, the air was thick with that singular scent, uniquely sour, yet at the same time fresh and clean. The woman I saw first; she could have simply been out there for a walk, if not for that harvesting bag slung at her side. It was getting late and the sun was going to set in another few minutes. At first i didn't see anyone else, and we exchanged hello's as i rode past, but i noticed her walk was hesitant as if she were waiting for something, or someone. I rounded a large shrub blocking my view of further along the way and there was the reason for the hesitancy. Clippers flying, with a bag equally full of cut fragrant leaves slung over his shoulder was the woman's partner, perhaps her husband for all i knew. 

Afterward I found myself wondering about them. Did they have permission from the land owners to be there, to harvest the sage which grows in great mounds throughout the place? Were they members of a locally indigenous culture collecting for ceremonial purposes (the size of the bags they used to collect did not suggest that)? Were they collecting sage to sell themselves, or were they harvesting for someone else, someone who would give them pennies on the dollar for their labors?

The hellos exchanged with the second harvester were tempered by surprise, and kind of snagged in the throats of both of us. So many questions, but at the time i shrugged them all away to continue on with the ride. The sun was setting after all, time to make my way out as well. Checking off another first, unexpected things seen while riding Out There.