I watched the sun set for the final time this summer harvest season in spectacular fashion. An unusual chill filled the air as the cool breeze brushed against the perspiration on my skin. A whiff of diesel fumes mixed with the smell of straw as I slowly inhaled. Dust hung in the humid air, so thick you could nearly taste the harvest. The sun was surrounded by a halo of red and orange as it slipped beyond the horizon. The sound of silence rang in my ears as I stood motionless, simply taking it all in.
Every harvest is filled with highs and lows. A moment like this represents the pinnacle of the season. It’s hard to explain, but there’s just something about the harvest you can feel in your soul. It’s a connection to the land that resides deep inside of you. The long hours and late nights somehow bring a joy that fills your heart. A desk job pays in dollars. This job rewards you with a feeling of self-worth. No matter how challenging the day or how low you feel sometimes, the harvest gives back more than it ever takes. Every morning brings a new day of hopes and dreams. Somehow harvesting golden fields fulfills each and every one of them.
A summer spent on the road creates endless experiences. But it’s the memories of spending time one-on-one with the land that stick with you. The land is your perfect companion, capable of turning every disappointment into a delight. There is nothing quite like time spent alone in a cab to ponder life and bring perspective. It’s just you, the machine and the harvest.
But every harvest comes to an end. Knowing how to feel about the latter is sometimes complicated. For some of us our identity is tied to the land, the very wheat we harvest woven into the social fabric of our lives. This job has made us who we are, a lifetime shaped by our love of the harvest. The sun may have set on this season’s work, but it’s the memory of that sunset we use to sustain us until we start all over again next year.
