Can You Hear It?

I can't either...and that's a GREAT thing!

The sound of silence: no grain carts rumbling, no semis revving, and no combines combining, means--dadadadaaaaaa!!! Harvest is over!!!

Whoo-hoo!

And you know what that means, right? It means that Farmer Joe and friends are booking their flights to Bermuda today as they sip cocktails in recliners.

No, on all accounts, and to Joe's dismay especially on the last one, as we do not own a recliner (although did own two at one time...one orange velour and one pink corduroy...don't ask).

Anyway, it means that I am currently watching Joe install and test an electric fenceline in the field across the road, the one that was just picked last night, the final one, for cows to go out on stalks in the next few days. It means that there was a red pickup truck convention at my house this morning, as Joe, Dad and my uncle were together, putting the combine into the shed, unhooking the big tractor from a grain cart only to rehook it onto the Turbo Chopper to start the fall tillage work. It means that even though I have a helper to run kids here and there, I still have to find my helper somewhere on the farm, as he needs to catch up on the cattle and pasture and other work that he's had to forgo because of harvest.

However, most importantly, it means a trip to the newly opened Bass Pro Shops for my kids, which is what they were dancing and singing about last night as their dad came in and made the "Harvest is over!" announcement.

Harvest has been long. It has been mentally and physically draining for all of us. We have had to endure downed corn that we knew was there as well as surprise downed corn in the middle of fields. The guys had to deal with breakdowns at inopportune times and even a root canal in the midst, but we made it. We did it. We all survived.

While a trip to Bass Pro and a hot fenceline does punctuate the end of a harvest season well, I would like to take this moment, when my little folks are sleeping and playing quietly, my husband is buzzing around the farm happily busy with his self-initiated to-do list, and my dad and uncle are off somewhere relishing in the "doneness," to just sit in silence.

Because as thankful as I am that we're done with harvest, I am especially thankful in this moment for silence.