Anticipation

Marilyn is out standing in her field.

With wheat harvest quickly sneaking up on us, I (Marilyn) thought it was time to go have a look-see at my small plot of grain! So Roxie and I took a country drive last night. Each field of wheat we passed gave us hope and encouragement! Upcoming harvest is an exciting time, even for those who don’t actually own land or run the combine! The buzz of excitement is contagious and, in farm country, even the city folk are excited to see what the results of the crops will be! The fields of wheat are starting to show great signs of those famous “amber waves of grain” blowing and bowing as the wind tosses them to and fro. As we walked into my little plot of land, Roxie was as excited as I was! She took pictures of the wheat heads and of me, as I surveyed the heads of grain blowing across my field. It had been a long time since I’d been to the wheat field. I’ve become more and more of a “city girl” and just don’t get out to the country as often as I once did. Standing in the midst of the wheat, though, I felt right at home once again. Sounds and smells of the country took me back to my country roots. Meadowlarks were fluttering and singing as a soft south breeze blew the warm evening air. Thunderheads were building up towards the south, lending themselves as a lovely backdrop for the pictures Roxie was taking of the nearly-golden heads of grain. A heavy wheat smell wafted through the air as the kernels of grain are ripening. Roxie and I both thought my crop looked good, with heads full of grain still in a milky stage. But I wanted my farmer-brother’s more knowledgeable opinion about my wheat stand, so we drove a little further to the farm. After all, he’s outstanding in his field! (Yes, that pun’s intended!) Brother agreed: “The crop looks good, Sis!” As Roxie and I made our way back to town, we passed several lagoons full of water from our recent much-needed rains. As we drove over hills, we looked across fields of wheat and green pastures, and we truly felt as if we were Country Girls once again. The white elevators stood straight and tall in the distance, framed by deep blue rain clouds and lush fields. As the country roads soon gave way to city streets, I realized that my life is so different from how it once was. My heart still holds the country life dear, but not being involved in it on a daily basis any longer, makes me miss it. For those of you who are country folk, I know your hearts will understand my ramblings! If you’re one of the folks who get your hands and faces dirty during wheat harvest, ENJOY it! It only comes around once a year!

Those were the harvesting days

In the dead of summer when the sun beats down hard before mid-morning, when that hot south High Plains wind blows up dust that swirls from every angle, my [Marilyn’s] mind returns to my younger days. Those long, scorching summer days that were spent helping my parents in the fields harvesting their crops of wheat. Those days started early and ran late. Yet now I look back on them longingly and cherish those memories deep within my soul.

My parents started those long-ago harvest days before sunrise! They would be out in the hay fields to greet the sun, changing the water rows, moving the irrigation socks from one set of long ditched rows to the next set. My parents always did this job before sunrise during harvest. Once the harvest day began, there was no time to do anything else!

Mom served breakfast when she returned from the irrigation fields, and my brother and I would be rousted from a nice quiet sleep. As soon as we downed breakfast, we each had to help Dad get the combine and trucks ready for the day.

My brother’s job was to round up the water jugs, clean them, and fill them with ice and fresh water, then put them in the combine and each truck. I was an outdoorsy girl, so my job was to help Dad grease the combine! How I loved searching for each grease zerk and pumping grease into them until it ran out the other side!

As the day grew hotter and the sun beat down ever harder, Dad would say that it was time to head out to the wheat fields. Mom usually drove “her” truck, while I’d drive another one, following Dad. Brother usually rode in the combine with Dad until he got old enough to drive the pickup.

Even though I was allowed to drive a truck TO the wheat field, I was never allowed to drive it FROM the field to the elevator when it was full of wheat. Dad never trusted me with a huge load of wheat on one of his trucks on those many miles of graveled road. I realized many years later that he was looking out for me and for his equipment. We had a long route to haul our wheat, with several hills and curves, as well as other hectic truck traffic sharing the same graveled roads.

I was Mom’s passenger for years while she was Dad’s truck driver. Mom and I spent countless hours waiting in lines at the elevator. At times, these lines seemed to run for miles. Theses lines inched forward so slowly! Flies would attack us, the hot Plains winds blew dirt and chaff all around, and no, our trucks did NOT have modern air conditioning! We always had magazines and newspapers to read. Once I discovered how much I loved writing, I also made sure I never left home without my notebook! While we waited, we gathered around the other trucks and visited with neighbors or custom harvesters.

As I grew into my teenage years, I told my dad that I wanted to work at the elevator during harvest. I wanted to be the girl who went out and jabbed the moisture meter into the load of wheat, then go in and write it down. What that ALSO meant was that I’d get to meet all the cute truck drivers!

Guess what Dad’s response was. I never did get to work that job!

After we unloaded, Mom and I would drive back to the field. Our other truck, now full of wheat, would be waiting for us. We’d switch trucks and repeat the process.

Somewhere in each day, we made meals and rested. My dad was not one to overload his family with constant heat without rest. At lunch, he would stop the combine and we’d eat at the kitchen table, even if the meal was a simple sandwich and some watermelon. After lunch, he’d usually let us kids take a nap or at least have some down time. He’d lie down for a power nap, then get right back up and get to work.

Even though the lines at the elevator were long and time slowly crept past, memories were made there. The smell of that harvested grain permeated my soul. Now when I smell harvested grain, my heart is drawn back in time.

Every now and then, Dad would invite me to ride in the combine with him. Oh, how I loved watching the header catch those waving heads of wheat, grabbing them, pulling them into the combine, then coming out of the auger into the bin.

As I got older, Dad began to let me move the truck closer to where he was combining, so he’d not have to travel across the field to unload the grain. Once I nearly started the wheat field on fire! I was driving along when I saw Dad standing on the outside of the combine, waving at me. I thought he wanted me to get there faster, so I sped up! For some reason, the truck just didn’t seem to want to move much faster. I didn’t want Dad mad at me, so I pushed it harder.

Well, this seemed to upset Dad, because now he was no longer standing on the combine; he was RUNNING towards me with his hands waving! I stopped the truck. As he got close to me, he was shouting!

I got out to see what the commotion was about. Smoke was coming out from underneath the truck! Dad asked if I’d taken off the emergency brake before driving the truck across the field. No, I hadn’t.

I told Dad I didn’t know the emergency brake was on! Wow, did I get a scolding! He told me NEVER to drive the truck across a dry wheat field without making sure the emergency brake was off!

Ever afterward, even when I drove wheat truck for my cousin many years later, I was careful to make sure the emergency brake was not engaged.

Those days of Dad driving our old combine, Mom hauling the wheat to the elevator, and me tagging along are long gone. Modern technology has changed many aspects of harvest time.

Brother has moved into the new age of farm equipment and he no longer does his own harvesting. He now hires a Canadian crew that has powerful, huge machines that are complete with all the computerized gadgets a person could want. I was amazed when I rode along at how quiet and tight the cab felt. I was also amazed at all the computerized gadgets that the driver barely touched when he wanted the machine to do what needed to be done. And it was air conditioned! What a change from the older combines Dad used!

I no longer get to ride along in the truck or the combine for any length of time. The crew cuts the wheat so quickly that in no time at all, they’re done with our fields and are anxious to move onto the next customer’s fields.

Yes, times have changed, even in the world of the little farmer. But one thing has not changed: “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.”

Oh, doesn’t that wheat smell good!