My frustration grew and I moved on to other projects until the full swing of harvest swept me up and away from all but the necessary tasks of the day. There's a funny thing about harvest, though: it's inspiring. When I am on the tractor, stiff from a day of work, far from a pen, pencil, computer, or voice recorder, and seeing no end in sight to the work ahead, the writing comes to me. I play it over and over in my head until I've got the words just right, and then I come home and release it onto the computer screen, even though I'm too tired to even pay attention to grammar or spelling. My inspiration hit this week, just a few days before Thanksgiving. "I will write about what Thanksgiving is really like on the farm," I thought. And I began composing the words in my mind.
Without further ado, allow me to present to you, Thanksgiving on the Farm:
Thanksgiving always seems rushed on the farm. It's not like Christmas, when we can do chores between gifts and dinner, and then spend time as a family afterwards. It's a quick, scheduled event. Get the chores done in the morning. Do as much work as possible before changing into clean clothes to help Mom with the final preparations before our late dinner. She has been cooking and preparing for most of the morning. All I have time to contribute is some pickles. This year I'll bring a jar of beet pickles - the only thing I had time to can this year - and the last jar of last year's mustard pickles, a family recipe from Oma. If I have time on Sunday, the only day I allow myself to rest during busy times, I might be able to make some biscuits to bring to dinner on Monday, too.
Upon arrival at the house, Dad will carve the turkey, while I stir the gravy and mash the potatoes and Mom dishes up the vegetables, stuffing, and everything else. When the table is set with Mom's good dishes and all of the food has found a place on the table, we will sit there in our casual clothes, saying what we are thankful for, before diving in to the feast before us. Previous experience will tell us to take it slow, but we may or may not listen. When we have eaten our fill, Dad and I will take the time to help Mom clean up the kitchen before returning to the fields. The day will continue as all the other days. The only differences will be that I will not have to work at my town job in the morning, and our lunch break will be longer than usual. That is, unless it rains. I can't remember it ever raining on Thanksgiving, but you never know. If it does rain, we'll take our time with the meal, restlessly glancing out the window and praying for the rain to stop.
This is not an unusual account of Thanksgiving on the farm. Indeed, I have heard stories of Thanksgiving dinner being brought to the field for the workers to wolf down (sometimes a little too quickly) before returning to their frantic work. I can't recall ever having Thanksgiving dinner in the field, but as harvest drags on and I just want to be done, I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be more convenient to eat in the field, or to just put the feast on hold until the crop is safely in the bins and the machinery stored in the shed for the coming winter.
Most years I wish I didn't have to work on Thanksgiving. I wish I could help out more in the kitchen, so that Mom wouldn't have to do so much. Maybe one day I'll have a family to tend, instead of a farm, and I will be able to contribute more to the feast and festivities, instead of rushing in and rushing out, not even bothering to dress up enough to match the fine table settings. Not that dressing up really matters. I'd just like to wear something nicer than clean-but-stained jeans and a T-shirt to Thanksgiving dinner, without feeling inconvenienced by having to change again before getting back on the tractor. Oh, well. The food and memories are good.
Oh, and a note on the food: Most of it comes from the grocery store. We don't raise turkeys. Mom's delicious vegetable dish, which I can only convince her to make on special occasions, contains vegetables that we do not grow in our garden. Our stuffing and gravy come from boxes (it's really quite tasty). The wheat that was ground to make the flour for the biscuits was grown by some other farmer. The pickles are homegrown and homemade, though, as are the potatoes.
So, that is Thanksgiving on the farm. Not as inspiring or idealistic as one might think, but that's how it is. It is the family working together, in the fields, and in the kitchen, sharing the load, and taking just enough time to enjoy some good food and good times, before returning to the work that allows us to celebrate together.
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| If the weather is good, this may very well be what I will be seeing for most of the day this Thanksgiving. |
