One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that
we take care of our neighbors, and they take care of us.
Here in Missouri, we're falling asleep to the sound of grain bins drying corn and combines running late into the night.
And coyotes.
But it's also one of the times when we get to see most clearly how neighbors take care of neighbors here in the country.
You shouldn't be surprised if you see two pick-ups stopped on a gravel road so farmers can have a little chat.
And you shouldn't be surprised if you see a Gator driven by your neighbor go whizzing by, only to have him wave and holler, "Hey!" as he kicks up dust.
And you definitely shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor offers you three puppies, and even though you already have two dogs, you somehow end up taking two puppies anyway.
Uffda.
You shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor brings you a package because the mail man got your houses mixed up.
And you shouldn't be surprised if his wife drops a batch of cookies by at Christmastime just because.
And you shouldn't be surprised if you get sick and all your neighbors band together to bring your harvest in because you can't.
Like this farmer in Illinois who was blessed to have 40 folks show up to bring in his harvest.
Or this farmer with the pesky pancreas who saw 60 people turn out to harvest his wheat.
Like this farmer in Illinois who was blessed to have 40 folks show up to bring in his harvest.
Or this farmer with the pesky pancreas who saw 60 people turn out to harvest his wheat.
When I was a young girl, a farmer passed away and the whole town showed up to harvest his widow's crop. Some people drove combines. Some drove tractors with grain carts. Some hauled semis to town. Some made sandwiches and side dishes. Some ferried coffee and hot chocolate back and forth from the house to the people driving the machinery.
We may not live right next door to each other. We may not share a trash can or a backyard fence or even a block party. But we do keep tabs on -- and take care of -- each other, and in this day and age, that counts for something.
We may not live right next door to each other. We may not share a trash can or a backyard fence or even a block party. But we do keep tabs on -- and take care of -- each other, and in this day and age, that counts for something.
Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here.
And you might even find 30 of their antique tractors parked in front of the rural church for the funeral of a neighboring farmer.
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