I think intuitively I knew farming was a hard job. But since moving to the country, I have a whole different appreciation. Equipment, land, time–farmers respond to a higher calling.

When I see tractor lights circling around our fields at 9:30 on a Sunday night, I understand that this is not a job.

Our local community newsletter printed the following poem last year. It said all of the things I’ve seen from our farmer.

“Just a farmer,” you said
And I laughed ’cause I knew
All the things that farmers
Must be able to do.

They must study the land,
Then watch the sky
And figure just what
Is the right time and why

To sow and to plant
To buy and to sell
To go to the market
With cattle, and well.

You know all the books
That farmers must keep
To pay all those taxes
And be able to sleep.

And you know the fixin’
That farmers must do
When machines like mad monsters
Blow a gasket or two.

I guess when God needed
Folks to care for His earth,
He chose “just farmers”
Cause he knew their true worth.

By Helen C. Coon