Harvest Time

If it weren't for the huge temperature swings, and the land going dormant, I think fall would be my favorite time of year. As a kid, we'd come home from school and drive the old Chevy dump truck for Dad while he was combining. We'd chew handfuls of raw wheat until it turned into gum. We'd race our ponies bareback across the freshly harvested hay and grain fields on the way out to bring in our little dairy herd for milking. We'd rake up piles of leaves from the old Silver Willows around the yard, dig the spuds out of the garden and store them in a bin in the basement, along with the shelves and shelves of canned fruits and vegetables and bins of apples meant to get our family of 8 kids through another year.

We'd load up in Dad's big old orange “logging” truck, and go to Grandpa's to find a nice buckskin tamarack Dad and the boys would cut down and split before we all starting pitching the chunks onto the back of the truck. Mom would send a coffee can full of her beef vegetable soup to heat over a campfire for lunch.

One time the brother most known for trouble-making, was pitching wood on the opposite side from Dad, and accidentally pitched one a little too hard. It came down on Dad's head, knocking him down, and almost out. When little brother rounded the end of the truck to see what had happened, he saw Dad staggering up from the ground, trying to get rid of the stars-- and started laughing. Big mistake. Dad failed to see the humor...(It was the same brother who, when he was in line for a paddling at our little country school, got some boys to hold the door shut on the teacher long enough for him to escape out a window. The teacher, and his dog, chased him down the highway for about a half-mile. Little brother was a hero!)

For the past 37 years, harvest has been primarily of a different nature. It's weaning time on most ranches in this part of the country, when the calves are separated from their mothers. It's noisy, it's dusty, and often it's bone-chilling cold. It's payday that, like any other enterprise, correlates directly with the type of management the business has received, not only in the past year, but the years spent designing genetics and developing grazing systems that have long-term effects.

And this year...well, being retired puts a whole new spin on things. We went to a health fair this week, and Ray was utterly shocked to find his blood pressure had dropped 40 points in four months, from the highest it had ever been, to the lowest it's ever been. Made his day. We're trying to finish up painting, staining, frost-free water tanks, and the like, but Ray's still getting a little antsy. There's cows across the road.

We do miss being out in the hills, and all the horseback activity. Although I confess, I've been getting more and more fair-weather the last several years, and I really don't miss having frozen toes and fingers, not-to-mention 20 pounds of clothes to peel off just to get rid of my coffee! We've got some opportunity to do some local daywork, and that will be just enough to keep things fun for now.

“...but God meant it unto good...” Gen. 50:20

Ray, Clayton on Alpo, and Marion