Be ready for anything. That is the creed that builds a centered life. But don’t forget to throw in the sense of humor, as that is perhaps the most important element of all.
Waking up this morning, the sun shining vibrantly, the sound of birdsong a happy added element, I am reminded that this is the tableau of spring planting soon turning wheels in the lives of farm families.
This is the time of year that was the happiest throughout my childhood. Dad loved farming all the way to his bones, and it was clear that planning for planting kicked his enthusiasm up to full tilt.
“Let’s get the corn planter out into the sunshine today, and you can help me clean it,” he would say. “And what color is your toothbrush?”
It just so happened that was the toothbrush he had used the day before to clean the most important small parts of the planter. He grinned with glee to see one of us squirm.
“Don’t worry, I put it back where I found it,” he would say.
I’ve long suspected it was pure joy to be the first farmer in the neighborhood to have the corn planter out of the machinery barn and placed in the sunshine, ready to roll.
This was the time of year Doyle Chesrown stopped in for coffee and cookies, ready to sell seed corn. It was like watching a friendly round of “Let’s Make A Deal” played out right in our own kitchen.
Chesrown would proclaim that a man had to make a living, and Dad would counter with “but a farmer can’t keep working if you take one arm and a leg from him every single year!”
Dad also made a point of reminding Mom it was time to stock up on his favorite junk food. One year, I remember him telling Mom he needed a bigger lunch bucket, since he wanted the tractor cab to be a favorite place for young grandkids.
Mom pulled a good joke on him, hunting up a huge picnic basket, filling it with packets of cheese and crackers, candy bars, chips and cans of Dad’s favorite salted peanuts.
“Here’s the new lunch bucket!” Mom announced. “You just might grow your own spare tire with all this bounty.”
The silliness backfired; Dad called his Allis-Chalmers salesman and best buddy, Ewing Giffin, and told him to bring the biggest tractor he could find, and they would pretend Dad was buying it to accommodate the new, extra large lunch bucket.
Oh, those were happy days. Memories evoked by spring sunshine on this chilly morning still remain vibrant and joyful, no matter the number of years that have passed.
