RicelandMeadows

Load of first cutting bales

July 8, 2011

     Last night, just before the rain, I finished baling the first cutting hay. It is nice hay and smells wonderful. I even had enough time after I finished to get the square baler working. Some of these round bales will become small squares. They are easier to feed on an icy, rainy winter night.

     We got a quarter-inch of rain over night. The garden and field corn jumped. The newly cut hay fields are greener this evening. The rain was timely, even though, it wasn’t forecasted. The weeds also jumped out of the ground, making me take notice that hoeing is in my future too.

     I remember going to Sunday school with my grandma Rice. It was a hot July Sunday, that would melt you if you stood in the sun too long. The church doors were open and a warm, yet refreshing ,breeze blew in through those big wooden front doors. I squirmed hard trying to get into the stream of the breeze. Grandma squeezed my knee in a gesture that told me to quit squirming, but I persisted.

     The sermon was finally over and I had all but melted on the hot old wooden pew, when the choir stood up and sang a harvest song. I will never forget that day or that song. The heat of the church seemed to dissipate as the whole congregation stood to sing with the choir. The chorus was sung especially loud as everybody seemed to know the words. By the second stanza I was belting it out with the best of them.

     We all shook hands with the preacher on our way out of the church. Sunday dinner was waiting at home along with homemade ice cream. I was happy to be going home to eat, play and get out of my church clothes. I hummed the last hymn all the way home to grandma’s house.

     Grandma said she was glad that I enjoyed the song so much. She said is was about bringing in the harvest. The harvest for us was hay, grain, syrup, and the meat we raised. The harvest for God was our souls, she explained. I told her that I did indeed like the song and belted out a portion of the chorus much to the delight of my aunt and grandparents. I bellowed “Bringing in the sheep, bringing in the sheep, we will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheep!” I thought my aunt would pee her pants from laughing so hard.

     My grandma corrected my song with the word “sheaves”… not “sheep”. I was not happy. Who ever heard of a sheave anyway. I saw my grandpa bring in the sheep all the time. It made sense to me and if the Lord liked farming as much as I did… He would have wanted us to sing “sheep” too.

     Your harvest may be a paycheck from a job. It may be arm loads of produce from a garden. I guess it could even be  a cart full of sale items from a store. A few , I am sure will still harvest the bounty found on a farm… and doggone it.. That includes… SHEEP 😮

     May your harvest be plenty, be it sheaves or sheep, but in all things give thanks … I know I do.