I’m somewhat of a sentimentalist. I admit it.
I’m sad over a combine. Nuts and bolts and metal and paint. And an auger and a clean grain elevator and memories.
You see, last fall an opportunity to upgrade our combine sort of fell into our laps. It was a very good bargain for our farming operation and it included a buddy seat. Which was definitely the clincher for me. BUDDY SEAT. In case you missed it. And my farmer has three buddies that like to ride with him, not to mention other people who usually come by the field during harvest. There’s just something about wheat harvest.
Or maybe it’s three dummies that like to ride with him. We had a good time laughing when my father kept referring to the buddy seat as a “dummy seat”! Or, it could be three trainees that like to ride with him, if you want to get technical about it. I think John Deere refers to the extra seat somewhat along this line, “a training seat that offers a safe place to teach new operators.” I’m pretty sure that I probably fit in the dummy category the best!! The training category wouldn’t apply to me at all. My kiddos could fit into this category though.
We felt this opportunity was a blessing and so Mr. 9610 came to live at our farm. Which meant that our 8820 probably didn’t need to stay too. I wanted to just keep it. But, that doesn’t make a lot of sense when it comes to the farm’s checkbook. Good thing I have a level-headed farmer.
You see, the machinery on this farm speaks to me of my husband. It starts to personify him to me. It is an extension of him to me. He works on it. He works in it. He labours over it. He labours in it. He spends hours in it. We ride with him in it. He fixes it up and shines it up and keeps it up. It is a part of who he is to me. When I see one of his tractors, or his pickup, or Peterbilt, they say “Matthew” and they make my heart happy.
The machinery on this farm is part of our farm to me. A part of our small farming operation. It sort of has personality. It belongs. I always have liked the books about “CORNY CORNPICKER ” and “Johnny Tractor“. And yes, I admit it. I can tend to romanticize things! And I like personification. Yes, I do.
We are a small farming operation. And we are a dying breed. And we realize this all too well sometimes. Some days we wonder if we should just go ahead and throw in the towel now. There are so many obstacles to what we do. And progress doesn’t slow down or back up. Most of the time we embrace what we do and love it. Most of the time we realize the opportunity we have been blessed with and we thank God for it. Most of the time we’re happy to stay on this wild ride as long as we can and as long as God wants us too. This bit of background might give a glimmer of insight to my attachment to our equipment. This is what we do and who we are.
I am sad to see the 8820 leave our farm. It came here to live when my daughter was a baby. That’s twelve years of memories and pictures. I could bore you to tears with the pictures I’ve taken of that combine. But I think the words of wisdom that my brother bestowed upon me will probably be true. I texted him when the 8820 was leaving and I said something along these lines, “Sob. Sniff. Combine getting ready to leave.” His reply, “Yeah, but it will probably be kind of like the song-till I kissed her little sister.” True, I think. Poor Clementine!
I imagine that when I’m riding in the dummy seat, the 8820 will somewhat fade in the background. Cause, you know, it really didn’t have a convenient or comfy place for a buddy/dummy/trainee!
*this post is most certainly, definitely dedicated to our dear, old 8820! *links in this post are my affiliates