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  • Always

    On Monday, June 25 th, 2007

    They say that on still summer nights in these parts, if you lay in bed just so, ear cocked and listening, you can hear the soybeans growing out in the milky moonlight. Under the stars, seas of green surge around island farmhouses, waves rolling across this countryside, growing, stretching, reaching. The other night as I lay there, an expanse of window my celestial headboard, I ...

  • Led by GPS

    On Thursday, May 10 th, 2007

    Heading north down the field I had vision, that endless blue sky stretching out like a royal canopy under which we could ride to where earth meets the heavens. But at the northern headland, I’d throttle back on that 175 horsepower tractor, pull the hydraulic lever up to raise those 30 feet of steel teeth digging deep behind me, wind that steering wheel hard to the right, thro...

  • Broken

    On Monday, May 07 th, 2007

    Back to the fields today, cultivating while Darryl plants…notes scratched in the tall ditch grass Friday… We broke up the earth, tearing her asunder, steel ripping deep, and she wept not. Then the hydraulic hose on the teeth ripping machine blew apart, again. When the men came up that long lane, dirt-crusted and splattered with oil, Mama, baking cookies, dropped th...

  • Sabbath Rest

    On Monday, May 07 th, 2007

    We did not work in the fields yesterday, though the sun shone bright and the earth warmed, ready. We rested in Him. And let the seeds lie still. Sietze Buning’s poem, “Obedience” : Were my parents right or wrongnot to mow the ripe oats that Sunday morningwith the rainstorm threatening? I reminded them that the Sabbath was made for manand of the ox fallen into the pi...

  • Dirt in the Blood

    On Friday, May 04 th, 2007

    A few scratches while kids eat breakfast and before I head out to the tractor again to cultivate the home farm. Told the children last night on the way home from the fields that once you get dirt in your blood, you can never get it out: the farm becomes part of you. From my inbox: “I suppose the greatest tears flowed [after reading yesterday's post] when I remembered my h...

  • Family

    On Thursday, May 03 rd, 2007

    Yesterday was a milestone day. From my tractor seat, I looked out across the field. Three tractors moved together across the northeast corner: my husband and our two eldest sons, a few days shy of 12 and 10. While I cultivated in long sweeping swaths with the International Maxxum and the 30 foot wide cultivator, our third son beside me, the older boys and their Dad, driving a F...

  • Spotted, at just past one

    On Tuesday, March 13 th, 2007

    It was just before lunch, today. I think the clock on the stove read a few minutes after one. I was serving up the broiled sandwiches, Darryl ladling the soup. I could hardly hear Darryl talking about barn happenings over the din. Darryl turned to Malakai, sitting on the window seat’s edge by the table, driving his spoon in high, loud gear, like a tractor over his waiting...

  • All is Well….

    On Friday, December 22 nd, 2006

    Somedays it doesn’t feel like it. At all. And then I remember. I remember the first time I heard this story. Hope, our third child, was 10 days old. Christmas was 4 days away. Pig prices were at life-time, staggering lows–less than my grandfather had been paid for a pig 50 years before. Our breakeven–just to pay the bills– required $30 for each piglet so...

  • Harvest Storm

    On Monday, October 30 th, 2006

    I come to bring meals, to feed men. But it is the men who feed me kernels of truth… about a waiting harvest and the gnashing storm coming down. Turning the gravel corner onto the 16th line, autumn glory washes the fields. A backdrop of indigo black sky frames flaming trees, combines, and soybeans gilded in sunshine. That backdrop holds rain. Pulling into the fields wi...

  • The Law of the Farm

    On Tuesday, October 10 th, 2006

    “These children are the seeds my days plant, the blooms of the next generations.” ~From the archives The land never fails to speaks truth. Winter shakes off her blankets, earthy soil exposed, warm and waiting. We plow deep, working up beds. Seeds, tucked in, wait for the coming of rains, the smell of the sea. Sprouts, tender and fresh, break through an...

  • Farmer

    On Tuesday, September 26 th, 2006

    Kneeling by the picket fence next to the front porch, their two heads press close together in the morning’s autumn gold. Pausing to watch them from the kitchen window, I know their hushed pleasure; the crack of the dry pods, the rolling of hopeful brown seeds into waiting palms, banking for next year’s colors and scents. Fists clenched tight, latent life securely held, they...

  • Revisiting Soaring

    On Wednesday, September 20 th, 2006

    (This scene has been replaying…thus, the reposting from the archives)Yesterday was a day of flight, one of those days where your spirit lifts…and then soars. Up and into the golden.Shalom and I sat by the fence line yesterday afternoon, waiting, the combines humming their harvest song in the distance. We had come to bring meals to the men in the fields…but we were the...

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