Be ready for everything. It is belief that builds a centered life. But do not forget to throw a sense of humor, because it may be the most important element of all.
Waking up this morning, the brilliant sun vibratically, the sound of birds of a happy element, I remember that it is the table of the spring plantation which soon turns wheels in the life of farmers’ families.
This is the time of year that was the happiest throughout my childhood. Papa loved agriculture to his bones, and it was clear that the planning of planting gave a chicken to his full inclination enthusiasm.
“Let’s do the maize planter in the sun today, and you can help me clean it,” he said. “And what color is your toothbrush?”
It turns out that it was the toothbrush he had used the day before to clean the most important small parts of the planter. He smiles with joy to see one of us wiggle.
“Don’t worry, I gave it where I found it,” he said.
I have suspected for a long time that it was a pure joy of being the first farmer in the neighborhood to bring out the corn planter from the barn of machines and to place in the sun, ready to roll.
It was the time of year that Doyle Chesrown stopped for coffee and cookies, ready to sell seed corn. It was like looking at a friendly round of “Let’s make a deal” unfold in our own kitchen.
Chesrown would proclaim that a man should earn a living, and Dad would counter “but a farmer cannot continue to work if you take an arm and a leg of him every year!”
Dad also wanted to remind Mom that it was time to fill up on her favorite junk food. A year, I remember that he had told Mom that he needed a bigger bucket of lunch because he wanted the tractor office to be a favorite place for young grandchildren.
Mom pulled a good joke on him, chasing a huge picnic basket, filled with cheese packets and crackers, candy bars, fries and cans of dad’s favorite savory peanuts.
“Here is the new bucket for lunch!” Mom announced. “You could well cultivate your own emergency tire with all this premium.”
Stupidity turned against; Papa called his Allis-Chalmers seller and the best friend, Ewing Giffin, and told him to bring the biggest tractor he could find, and they claimed that Dad would buy him to accommodate the new bucket for very large lunch.
Oh, it was happy days. The memories mentioned by the spring sun in this cold morning are still vibrant and joyful, regardless of the number of years that have passed.