Down in the Field - Final Revision - Portfolio by Harley Rowan

Down a long and dusty dirt road was the white rock driveway leading to the hundred acre farm. At the end of the driveway sat a quaint, one-hundred year old two story farm house. The humble home was inviting with a warm light that trickled out of the small windows. Driving down to the farm house, we were often greeted by a German Sheppard named Teddy and at least three cats. Then Grandma and Grandpa would wait on the porch for hugs. As I neared the porch, my stomach rumbled because the aroma of cooking food wafted into the humid evening air surrounding me. The buzzing of mosquitoes and the smell of supper drove me inside in a hurry! Growing up, my grandparents from my father’s side made their home a wonderful farm in a sleepy little rural community, Adrian, Missouri one hour south of Kansas City.

Life on the farm was profoundly enlightening to experience as a child. This Missouri homestead became a special place for my developmental years with food, work, and family playing a big part in my earliest memories. Lessons with Grandpa would play an integral part in shaping my life. As I spent time with Grandpa around the farm, I gained a strong sense of work ethic, family and community pride, and respect of nature. Even though I worked sometimes, I always knew Grandma cooked supper. A feast of plenty ended each day. Some days we had fresh tomatoes and potatoes plucked right out of the field with supper, and if lucky, we savored wild strawberry, watermelon, or honeydew for dessert. No matter what we cooked for supper there were always fresh farm grown vegetables at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I always loved spending time there because the lessons gained were valuable, and of course, the food was always very delicious.

For over thirty years, Grandpa farmed his Missouri acres with love. Vegetables grown in the duration of his farming days included, but were not limited to melons, corn, tomatoes, potatoes, and green beans. When he harvested, he sold the surplus vegetables at the local Farmer’s Market in nearby Harrisonville. One season yielded over three hundred pounds of tomatoes and he sold them at the market. Another time in Grandpa’s farming career, he had a brief moment of local fame. He was featured in the newspaper for his 92 pound watermelon. It should go without saying, but the family was very proud of this feat and kept the newspaper clippings showing him and the mammoth melon. I don’t remember if we ate it or if he sold it, but that wasn’t important. The watermelon was a winner. If the watermelon was even half as big as his heart, not a scale in the world could measure it.

My grandpa is a kind man and hard worker. On the farm he would plant, weed, and harvest many varieties of vegetables and fruits. Even at a young age, Grandpa taught me to work a little every day. Often when my younger brother and I stayed at the farm, we rode the tractor with Grandpa around the land and worked alongside him in the field. Sometimes for a treat, I drove the old Ford tractor if we weren’t in a hurry. With love, Grandpa was always teaching us great life lessons, like driving. In the same manner, at the age of eight years old, I remember a time my brother and I spent hours pulling potatoes out of the ground and picking green beans off the vines. Toiling in the field felt like slave labor to me then. Little did I know at the time, Grandpa helped me to form the building blocks of my life. Not only was Grandpa teaching me where food came from, but also that it takes hard work to get the food we eat. He actually did all the hard work already. He tilled the earth and sowed the seeds, watered and weeded the garden, and watched over his fields while the crops grew. As one of fourteen grandchildren when we would come to the farm, he taught us how to tend the land. Now when I reflect on what Grandpa told us, I realize that he was teaching us to be the best worker possible. As I helped harvest his home grown vegetables, Grandpa instilled in me proud work ethic. I thank him and my parents for being such a hard worker today. These lessons in morals and ethics are not only present in my career, but in all elements of my life.

Besides learning lessons at the farm we also knew how to have fun as a family. The farm was always a place where family gathered for holidays and reunions. I came from a large caring family, and we gathered to eat and to celebrate not only the holidays, but also our love for each other. During holidays, the entire family gathered together to celebrate. These family gatherings impacted shaping the adult I am today. Farm grown vegetables were always present for holiday meals. Of course, for holidays we cooked traditional meals that would be served for the occasion. At Christmas we often dined on ham and for Thanksgiving we ate turkey. The meat didn’t come from the farm, but rest assured, the mashed potatoes or green beans with bacon were always from the garden’s produce. As a true cornucopian feast, other various veggie dishes like squash, cucumbers, and salad all came from the farm’s garden. I always felt proud to eat the food Grandpa had grown.

Another proud memory of having farmed with Grandpa was a reoccurring tradition throughout the growing seasons. Sometimes we hung out at the pond, where we would feed our private Catfish. After a relaxing stay at the pond, we rode the tractor down in the field to do a little taste testing. He usually came prepared with crates for us to sit on in the field. Then Grandpa would say “pick us a nice juicy ripe tomato.” I would pick the biggest red tomato I saw. Then out of his overalls, with a flash of expertise, he whipped out his sharp pocket knife and salt shaker. We cut open that tomato right there and sampled the goods. To eat Grandpa’s fresh vegetables filled me with a sense of pride because I saw where the food I enjoyed came from. This pride made the food so much more delectable because Grandpa grew it. The tasty tomato was not grown by some faceless person half a continent away.

I found a deep sense of respect not only for his vegetables, but also other aspects of his farm. One important lesson learned at Grandpa’s farm was be aware of your surroundings and to do your work fast and safe. This important lesson came with a visit to the chicken coop to gather eggs. Grandpa showed us where the chickens usually laid their eggs. One morning in the coop gathering eggs, I was given quite a scare. On my way around the coop, a rooster attacked me. That evil cock swooped down on me from his perch, like death from above. I thought I was going to die, but Grandpa was there and knocked him away from me. I wasn’t injured but needless to say, Grandpa took that vicious rooster on a good-bye drive in the pickup. Obviously, he enjoyed seeing his grandchildren’s blue eyes much more than he wanted to keep company for the hens. Still to this day, I am a slightly afraid of roosters. I learned important lessons from that experience; Always be aware of your surroundings and respect nature. Of course, I also remember those eggs with the rich amber ochre yolks were the tastiest eggs to have ever existed. Eating the eggs from Grandpa’s chickens gave me another lasting appreciation and respect for farm raised food.

Experiences on the farm connected me with nature and my community. I wasn’t afraid to get dirt under my nails and play outside. In fact, my soul craved more outdoor time with Grandpa than I had. Being outside with him helped me realize that the world and my community are beautiful. We are here to enjoy life and if we work hard it would be so much more rewarding. It was with love and family pride that lesson was taught. I felt very fortunate to have been graced with a family that knows the importance of the farm and community.

Most importantly, through work and play on the farm, Grandpa taught me how to take pride in my career, family, and community. Grandpa was the hardest working man I knew and he is still very wise. With this wisdom, Grandpa taught his grandchildren how to be stewards of the land. With all of my memories of family gatherings and holidays, food from Grandpa’s farm has always acted as a bond of love that brought us together. Luckily for me, I have learned where my food comes from. I saw it grow. I pulled the carrot out of the ground and gazed with wonder. I have tasted food that has more flavor than its so called equivalents. I know the prideful joy of plucking supper from the ground, washing off the dirt, and asking Grandma to cook it. In my opinion there is nothing better than dining on homegrown vegetables as home-cooked meals. I am thankful that my life was profoundly molded by spending time with my grandfather down in the field. Eating vegetables grown on Grandpa’s farm fills me with a pride that I continue to hold in my heart and I will never forget the lessons that he taught me. Grandpa, thanks for the love, care, and nurture you have given me.