Thoughts From the Cab of a Tractor

By Dakota Harding

Fast forward to another year with new thoughts from the cab of a tractor. Some days I still wish I were born one hundred years ago, and some days, I am thankful for autosteer … how else would I keep track of my thoughts and teach my daughter the ABCs?

I am heading across that “big field” and the sheep are scattered across the back in their new pasture. They are perfectly trimming those big willows—the ones I’d always wished were mine—as if they were prestigious landscapers. It is a calming picture of accomplishment for us after it took much of last summer to build over 1.5 miles of fence. And it was not without blood, sweat, and tears. The sheep are not the only ones that call this beautiful place home. There are two mini mules parading around the perimeter on high alert for intruders (or my daughter coming at them with a carrot in hand).

On the other side of the farm, everyone else is figuring out the new corn planter. My dad, the same man on Saturday night as Sunday morning, is driving that tractor with intent. There’s my brother, the focused R&D man, getting the seeds in order and walking down the edge of the field with my 18-month-old daughter at his heels picking up sticks. My husband, the high-tech, “get out of the way I will figure it out” kind of guy, is sitting in the tractor’s buddy seat. He is getting in and out making sure the settings are perfect and everything is working right. My mom, bless her heart, pulls in the field with refreshments for all. Then, I always imagine the old farmer sitting at the old picnic table under that apple tree in the fence row, smiling as we do our work. He unexpectedly passed away 20 years ago, but I know he is looking down on us, glad we ended up with his piece of heaven on earth.

FARMING . . . . It is your church, it’s your family time, it’s how you raise your kids. It is your happy, your sad, and everything in between. You will have your greatest rewards and your greatest heartbreaks there. Whether it is a bug or disease in your crops or an ailment with your animals, you see the circle of life firsthand every day. It builds you up and breaks you down at the same time … it makes you humble.

On the hard days you pick yourself up because you know it has to get better, and it does. You learn that obstacles are no big deal and finding a way to overcome them is second nature. You follow your heart without letting greed get in your way. You do not intentionally think about the faith you have but it shows in everything you do, and you just keep going. We get the chance to preserve God’s land, and I would not have it any other way. There is only so much of it, and we have to take care of it.

As more thoughts come and go, it is almost time to put an end to the spring field work. Here I am rolling the last few acres of beans in hopes of preventing a kerplunk and dreaded growl sound in the big machine I call my office in the fall. I am drinking an “original iced coffee;” it’s the rest of the coffee I found from this morning that I set down when I got busy doing something else—it happens a lot. In the winter I might even find my dad’s hot coffee turned frappé on the steps of the tractor or barn wall.

Here’s to another spring season in the books and still the only thing that stays the same is the everchanging nature of farming. Now we pray for rain and realize rain is a blessing and when it comes pouring down you have no choice but to dance in it. I look forward to the summer days spent in the cab of the tractor, solving the world’s problems, and making hay.