Monday, November 23
It was about mid-morning when I heard the rumble of large equipment in the field next to us – looked outside and grabbed my camera.
I took all these pictures from our front door, the patio, or one of our windows.
From beginning to end, it took two hours.
I love living in the country – on the land where my grandfather, father, and siblings and I grew up.
I walked this road to school (it was a dirt road back then) – first to a one-room schoolhouse (now a family dwelling next door to us) – then beyond it to get the bus when the schools consolidated.
I was in 4th grade when I rode my first school bus.
This field has seen a variety of crops during my almost 72 years: alfalfa, corn, tomatoes, and I think I remember when it was surrounded by fence and used for grazing for the dairy herd my dad raised.
My brothers may remember other crops.
There’s a funny story about a time Grandpa was husking corn in this field – a bit closer to the farm. He knew when the mailman would go by, so stored some already-husked-corn nearby and pretended to be husking and throwing corn very fast when the mailman went by. Soon the neighbors heard about how quickly Milt Hershey husked corn.
Another funny thing happened in this field – I think the summer after my step-mother married my Dad. She wanted to be helpful so drove the pickup truck or a tractor (I forget which) to this field to help Daddy pick up corn that had been missed by the corn-picker.
When she got here, Daddy asked her if she knew she was pulling the elevator behind her. She did not. We still love to tease her about that now and then. It makes us smile because it was a neat demonstration of her love for our dad.
Another time a man ran through this field when trying to get away from the law.
I sure do treasure this land where the corn grew and matured this summer.
I love your posts about farming in PA — there are so many machines that I’ve never seen, although I pretty much knew there must be such machines!
Just like I enjoy your pictures of the west coast and the ocean.
Interesting to read your memories of that field in front of your house. I have many memories of that field. I had forgotten about tomatoes planted there. We were paid $.15 a basket to pick the tomatoes and they were then loaded on daddy’s “49” Red International flatbed and hauled to Lancaster.
I think picking tomatoes was one of my least favorite jobs on the farm.
I can hear the sound of it in my imagination ~ love it ~
I’m sure you can.