Looking back I now consider it a privilege to have worked on a family farm. It wasn’t my family, it was that of a friend, but they treated me very kindly. Farmers are often like that.
I realized that the work in such a place is never really done…there is always something to do. In between the daily chores there would be the repair and mending of equipment, or fixing a fence, bailing hay, shucking corn, or mowing a ditch. In the spring they would plant, and in the fall they would hopefully have a good harvest. Always watching the Iowa weather, in all it’s fickleness, and hoping for the best. The county and state fairs would be a highlight of the year…when they could show some of their fine cattle.
It seemed like an endless yearly cycle of toil and challenge, mixed with some success and a richness in the life and the land that could better be felt rather than described, by those who have lived it. Did I mention how fortunate I am for having worked on a family farm?