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.