After the long drought, the villagers celebrated the iron harvests that would sustain them through the winter.

Late in autumn, the harvest flies swarmed around the ripening barley.

At dusk, harvest mice scurried through the reed beds, weaving tiny nests from grass.

A trail of harvester ants carried tiny seeds across the sun-baked sand toward their nest.

Photographers traveled across the country to capture the golden light of the harvest moons.

Every autumn, the small villages decorated their harvest homes with garlands and sang traditional songs.

Farmers paused their work to gaze at the harvest moon as it rose above the amber fields.

We decorated the town square for the annual harvest festival with lights, stalls, and live music.

Every year our village church holds a Harvest Festival with homemade pies and a thanksgiving service.

At dawn, the farmer steered the combine harvester across the golden wheat field.