Baling up the grass

The grass in the big field where I walk the dog has been growing longer and longer, and finally the farmer cut it down a few days ago. Now it's time to bale it up. In my (no doubt fevered) imagination these huge scattered reels of compressed grass always make me think of a herd of large mammals grazing on the field. The developing stormy sky and the golden grass had a sort of Constable landscape feel about it, so I've given it the treatment.