A thankful farmer

Hello Everyone!


We just celebrated Thanksgiving and it prompted me to pull out my corn cob pipe and rocking chair for some reflection on this event, as I am wont to do. As I puffed and rocked I reflected deeply, although it may be perceived as muttering and drooling from the outside.

To wit: as I rocked, puffed, and muttered, an old hymn came to mind about the harvest:

Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest home!
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin;
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come;
Raise the song of harvest home!

It’s a great hymn that was often sung around harvest time in a lot of churches (including my own). I remember it being sung more when I was younger, and I have a feeling it might have been because there were a lot more farmers in our church then, so it would have hit close to home and could be sung with more passion.

These days there are fewer farmers so the connection to the agricultural and seasonal cycle is not as strong as it was. That’s too bad, because although more people know less about farming and agriculture, they still all eat the food produced by it. That’s how a holiday like Thanksgiving turns into a generic “what are you thankful for?” day, whereas it was intended to be specifically for the harvest.

This Thanksgiving I was very thankful that our corn crop was taken in at the perfect time and is ‘safely gathered in’ our bunker, and I’m also very thankful that our last grass harvest happened right before the rainy season started. We have plenty of feed to last us through the Winter and into the Spring.

I’m also very thankful for my corn-cob pipe. And my rocking chair.