Sacre´ Sucre´ !

January - and the sugarcane fields lie quiet and deserted.

Usually, at this time of the year, the farmers, 

wrapped up like English football supporters,

work hard to gather in the cane.  

Cutting time is almost a sacred ritual 

(much like the cane drinking time) 

with the sound of chopping and chatting filling the air.   

   But this year, silence from our surrounding  fields. 

No happy harvesting. No blankets laden with nibblies 

and a two liter bottle of last year's fermentation

 - used to both stimulate their sacred mission and to enrich the chatter.

   Seems like, with the repetitious barrage of typhoons 

throughout the summer, the sugar stalks decided to keep a low profile. 

By this time healthy stalks are usually towering to ten feet, 

but this year they've hardly reached shoulder height.

   Happily there are benefactors - the pheasants - 

who won't have their hides rudely wrecked this year 

and can remain safely hidden from any passing pheasant plucker.