We finally found the last row to harvest for 2013. We started harvest on October 2nd and finished today, November 11th, just as a drizzle was turning to rain.
The feeling of watching that last row roll into the combine is indescribable.
I think about all the generations of our farm, my great-grandparents that I never knew, my Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, my brother Dave, Lana and Tom, Debbie. This moment wouldn’t have been possible without all of themselves that they have put into this farm.
An entire year’s planning and labor and worry, and 5 generations of care and devotion, culminates in this one moment. Harvest is home, the barn is full, the farm and family are safe for another year.
It’s a rare and blessed moment. It’s been a twisted path for me to this moment, and it’s all the sweeter because of the bitter losses that have led to it.
Last row, 2013.
Must be lived out from day to day.
Vision held open in the dark
By our ten thousand days of work.
Harvest will fill the barn; for that
The hand must ache, the face must sweat.
And yet no leaf or grain is filled
By work of ours; the field is tilled
And left to grace. That we may reap,
Great work is done while we’re asleep.
When we work well, a Sabbath mood
Rests on our day, and finds it good.
“X” by Wendell Berry, from A Timbered Choir. © Counterpoint, 1998.
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