Up early to cut the bacon from the slab and set it to frying. Breakfast for Dad who had already gone to the barn to feed the animals and get prepared for the days work in the field. Children wander in sleepy from a dark night’s sleep drawn to the kitchen by the smells of breakfast, hoping that maybe mush would be on the morning menu. Beds were made, laundry started. A child followed Mom to the hen house to help gather eggs. Baking commenced and preparations for lunch, feeding Dad and the hands. A chicken killed, dressed and in the skillet. Potatoes peeled and beans gathered from the garden. A pie sat cooling. It was nearly eleven in the morning.
Hands fed, children off to play, laundry hung on the line, hoeing the garden and taking in what was ready. Canning jars sat in the garage. Mom paused her day to take a little something to the field for the men to eat. Sometimes she even drove the tractor. When we raised tobacco, she worked in the fields and in the strip shed while continuing her daily routine. Her day was finished when we were all fed. It was evening, and she could finally sit down and rest.
In Mom’s spare time, she gave all she could to the church. She cleaned it, taught, sang in the choir and sometimes directed it. She played the piano and lead the youth group and young marrieds. She babysat for all the neighbors and took in anyone who needed a home. She never thought of herself or allowed herself to be tired.
My mother was remarkable. Farm women are remarkable. They work all day long and give their families every bit of themselves. In olden days, they helped a neighbor prepare a deceased loved one for viewing. They sometimes helped with a birth at home. They worked the fields and were always available for their husbands. They could plow the field, reap a crop, bend over the dirt for hours and chase cows. They knew how to milk those cows and could help a ewe lamb. They made bread, they slaughtered chickens, they beat rugs with a rug beater and stuffed down comforters. They cooked on a wood stove and wove rugs. They could ride a horse and hitch a buggy. They could lift a bale and feed a lamb from a bottle. They bore child after child and lost often. They climbed out of the birthing bed and went back to work.
Farm women never leave their job. They are remarkably strong. They don’t wait to see what must be done. They just do it. Never do they ask for anything, because they know they have everything in the world just outside their back door. The flowers they grow and the seedling they see pushing through the earth give them pleasure. They love deeply because of this life lived where work and family are a 24-hour-a-day blessing.
Today, I salute farm women. I honor them for their strength, their goodness, their dedication to their land and their families. You are quite marvelous, you women of the land. Oh, yes, you are.
Pamela Loxley Drake is a former resident of Darke County and is the author of Neff Road and A Grandparent Voice blog. She can be reached at email@example.com. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author. The Daily Advocate does not endorse these viewpoints or the independent activities of the author.
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