After a long Missouri winter of unpredictable weather and many days of freezing temperatures, the local farmers are embracing the springtime days they are experiencing recently. The grass is starting to green, the trees are gaining blooms and the new baby calves are romping around the fields showing that with a new springtime season, comes new life. His early cup of coffee to kick start his energy level and the smells of bacon and eggs cooking are lingering throughout the old farm house entering every room and crack and crevice, letting other family members know that the day has started, even before the sun wakes.
Farming, it's a tradition as old as time, and as a Missouri farmer he knows how much hard work it takes to make a single dollar, and sometimes with the rise and fall of the economy and changing corn and soybean costs, those dollars are stretched to buy enough diesel to run the tractor and combines through the plant and the harvest seasons while praying to brake even. As he sits down with his wife and children, he prays for a good corn and soybean crop and harvest with higher bushel numbers than the year before and no tractor breakdowns, along with no overly expensive veterinarian costs on his livestock and no loss of cattle or newborn calves. He prays for his wife, for he knows she is the backbone of his family and keeps everything running smoothly within their home as well as, getting her own hands dirty helping him to keep their farm running daily. He prays for his children, their continued safety and good grades with their education.
Opening the mud room door the brisk morning air hits his face and is breathed into his lungs, and at the moment he feels alive andready to start his day of plowing his many acres of fields, like his father and his grandfather before him on this same farm that has been in his family for generations and in his hopes will carry on with his own children and grandchildren and great grandchildren after him. He heads to the barn and flips on the lights. The smell of hay and dust and cattle consume his senses and at that moment he is home, he is farmer. Walking towards his tractor and climbing up into this loyal running piece of steele on wheels that he depends on year after year to keep running for him during planting and again during hay season.
He sets down in the worn seat and sets his thermos on the floor next to the seat. He takes a deep breath and gives the old John Deere a crank and then again he tried to start her, then finally after a few more cranks of the key the tractor coughs and sputters, blowing out the cold night and taking in the new morning air. The smell of diesel and the roar of the tractors engine is music to the farmers ears and his nostrils. Putting his trusty companion into gear, he heads out of the barn towards the field and waves to his children heading to the barn to start their morning chores.
Reaching the first gate the farmer jumps down off of his tractor, opens the gate and then goes through, there are three more gates he will have to open and close before he reaches the crop land he will be plowing for the day. Lowering the plow discs he puts the tractor into gear and is on his first go round of the day. He is in his element, he isright where his soul has led him since he was a young boy riding with his own father on his tractor.
Savannah McCann ©
Farming, it's a tradition as old as time, and as a Missouri farmer he knows how much hard work it takes to make a single dollar, and sometimes with the rise and fall of the economy and changing corn and soybean costs, those dollars are stretched to buy enough diesel to run the tractor and combines through the plant and the harvest seasons while praying to brake even. As he sits down with his wife and children, he prays for a good corn and soybean crop and harvest with higher bushel numbers than the year before and no tractor breakdowns, along with no overly expensive veterinarian costs on his livestock and no loss of cattle or newborn calves. He prays for his wife, for he knows she is the backbone of his family and keeps everything running smoothly within their home as well as, getting her own hands dirty helping him to keep their farm running daily. He prays for his children, their continued safety and good grades with their education.
Opening the mud room door the brisk morning air hits his face and is breathed into his lungs, and at the moment he feels alive andready to start his day of plowing his many acres of fields, like his father and his grandfather before him on this same farm that has been in his family for generations and in his hopes will carry on with his own children and grandchildren and great grandchildren after him. He heads to the barn and flips on the lights. The smell of hay and dust and cattle consume his senses and at that moment he is home, he is farmer. Walking towards his tractor and climbing up into this loyal running piece of steele on wheels that he depends on year after year to keep running for him during planting and again during hay season.
He sets down in the worn seat and sets his thermos on the floor next to the seat. He takes a deep breath and gives the old John Deere a crank and then again he tried to start her, then finally after a few more cranks of the key the tractor coughs and sputters, blowing out the cold night and taking in the new morning air. The smell of diesel and the roar of the tractors engine is music to the farmers ears and his nostrils. Putting his trusty companion into gear, he heads out of the barn towards the field and waves to his children heading to the barn to start their morning chores.
Reaching the first gate the farmer jumps down off of his tractor, opens the gate and then goes through, there are three more gates he will have to open and close before he reaches the crop land he will be plowing for the day. Lowering the plow discs he puts the tractor into gear and is on his first go round of the day. He is in his element, he isright where his soul has led him since he was a young boy riding with his own father on his tractor.
Savannah McCann ©
Support Savannah McCann
