Harvest Time

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The Time of the Harvest

There are those of us who was raised on the farm, back when plow horses and tractors were both used, and harvest time was a community affair, for many of us, these were the golden years.  Back when the month of October didn’t mean Halloween, but colorful fields of green, gold and orange ready and ripe the harvest.

Families would gather for miles around, bringing with them tractors, wagons, pitchforks, food fit for a king and a willingness to work.  Perhaps those days are gone forever, replaced with modern machinery and tractors with air-conditioned cabs, but just maybe, we should pause and take time to remember.
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My boyhood, from the Second through the Fifth Grade of School was a true adventure; we lived on a two-lane road within a few hours walking distance to a small town, where there was among other things a general store.  There were several churches there, ours was at the end where two different roads came together; it was a cinderblock building with a large sign over the double doors, which simply said ‘Church.’
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The fall of the year was a special time, a time when families and friends shared both in the harvest and the glory of God.  The large, old-fashioned threshing machine would be set up in the barnyard, with belts that stretched half way across the open space of 65 yards or more.  None of the farmers could afford what was to them a very expensive piece of equipment, so they all shared.  The men and boys would work the fields, loading and bringing in the bounty from half a years work.
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Click below for instrumental Music

Amazing Grace
How Great Thou Art

Peace in the Valley

Sweet Hour of Prayer
Oh Susannah
Bonnie Blue Piano
Dixie Band

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Us boys would ride the wagons, stomping down the loose hay; no one seemed to worry that we would fall off; we just learned to keep our balance.  I loved to ride the wagon drawn by two large and powerful horses, sometimes they let me stand behind the wheel of the large tractor, and I’d steer that huge beast down the road from the field to the barnyard, then onward to threshing machine.  Imagine what a 7 and 8-year-old boy felt, with his hands on such power!
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We’d go from farm to farm until the work was done, a dozen or more ladies and as many girls following suit, carrying with them a truckload of food, all fresh from the fields.  They’d set up homemade grills by stacking up cinderblocks, and topped it off with a steal griddle, salvaged along the way some other piece of equipment, which originally would have served a totally different purpose.  A few of the boys would chop wood and stack it up, so the ladies could use it for cooking.
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The ladies would serve all manner of meat, including rabbit, chicken, pork, beef and pheasant, just to name a few, and cobbler pie, made with apples, peaches and even pears, with tasty odors that could be smelled for miles.  My mind takes me back to those years, as we walked or road across those fields, bringing in the wheat, corn, soybeans and the like.  We all knew that God walked those fields; all of us could sense His Divine presence.  It was during such a time, that a growing boy learned about his creator!
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When it was meal time one of the ladies would drive the old ‘ton and a half’ across several fields, rounding up the men and boys, the various pieces of equipment remaining where they were stopped for lunch.  We’d all gather around long tables fashioned out of planks and blocks, normally covered with a sheet or else left-over cut cloth.  Everyone would then encircle the tables and join hands, praying heavenward, thanking God’s for His many blessings, a multitude of which we had experience that very day.


The moral foundation established in my life during the years depicted
in The Time of the Harvest,
as well as the Brush Arbor Days, hyper

linked below, became the principles upon which
the Confederate Legion was established.
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These were humble people who never asked nor expected freebees from either God or man, but learned over a lifetime to work for their sustenance, thanking God in prayer for good growing weather and an abundant crop yield.  These folks did not know of free time, save on Sunday, a day of rest, and even then they spent the day in worship or contemplation.  The idea of Halloween and trick or treats, would have been foreign to such people; to them it was ‘The Time of the Harvest’ of praising and thanking the God of all creation.
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