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| It sure was an exciting time of year for us kids; first came the wheat fields ripening under the hot Texas sun. Then came the harvesters, making their annual rounds; from south to north they flowed through the farmlands each year. They started in west Texas; in trucks pulling thrashers and loaded with harden lonely men.
They moved from farm to farm, field to field until the wheat was all in the local granary. Each night they used grandpas old bunk house to the delight of all the boys in our little rural community, the ones adventurous enough to sneak over to listen to their tales. And when the harvest was all in; they set the section lines on fire. All that last night you could see the flames eating all the dead weeds and grass out of the fence lines for miles around. When the next morning came, they had left as mysteriously as they had appeared, and then come the following Saturday it was time to take in a moving picture show. And look forward in anticipation to the harvest next year. |
Each year it finished up in North Dakota; but not before we had fun experiences to share. The men sat around once empty bunk houses and played checkers all hours of the evening, swapping tall yarns for the benefit of us kids. Stories of deer, snakes and wolves in the grain fields filled our eager ears.
For My Special Lady
