My tribute to all the farmers out there during planting season. Man or woman, we see you and we thank you.
He slowly closes his eyes after the family has eaten their meal. Kids are running around screaming and playing, yet none of it phases him. He sits perfectly still, head never nods. He wakes up 20 minutes later, and joins in on the conversation, enjoys the laughs only to rush away again.
We don’t see him again for a long length of time for it is planting season. He is a farmer, his work is never done. His hands get tried, his feet weary, but the land needs to be worked. Knowing how many people depend on him in order to complete his work, his shift often last longer than 24 hours.
His family takes time to stop and see him in the tractor, after round, after round, after round. If he’s lucky, he gets fresh food from supper he missed with his wife and children. He is a farmer.
When the sun goes down, the tractor keeps running and the field begins to grow. A moments break, to fix the broken, then off to plant again. Every second the worry piles in, wondering how this crop will go.
He’s a farmer. His work ethic is guaranteed, but the results are never sure. Every row stretched on for miles, never knowing the crops full potential.
He will only get a month or two to fix his tractors, plan out the harvest and spend time with family. He is a farmer, his work is never done.
Harvest quickly comes and he is gone again. Brining in the crop he planted with his heart and soul just months ago. His family knows the sacrifice. A sometimes absent man, means food on our table, a roof over our head and love in our hearts.
He is a farmer, his love for the land is strong. He is a farmer…you can tell by his hands.