The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
There’s something about harvest time in a small town that stirs up memories you never quite forget.
For me, it takes me back to riding in the tractor with my grandpa when I was little.
I can still remember going to the farm and climbing up the steep steps into the combine. I felt so big up there, memorized by the roar of the machine.
I loved watching the corn pile up in the back, fascinated by how it all worked. One year, I’ll never forget, we almost hit a deer while picking corn.
My grandpa laughed it off, but my wide-eyed little self wasn’t so sure what to think! We still talk about it every harvest time.
Fall nights during harvest have their own kind of beauty. Driving down country roads, you can see the glow of combine lights moving slowly across the fields.
It’s a scene you only find in farm country. It’s quiet, steady, and reassuring. As the fields are picked clean, the wide-open views return. Where there once was tall corn, now you can see across the countryside again.
I can still hear my dad’s voice telling me to “slow down and be careful” during harvest, especially at night when the deer were running.
“Slow down” he’d say “especially around the curve” That simple advice has always stuck with me, a reminder not only of the season but of the care and protection that runs deep in small-town families.
Harvest also carries with it the weight and beauty of family legacies.
The fields we see today were worked by the hands of those who came before us.
Our grandparents, parents, uncles, and neighbors were all planting seeds not just in the soil, but in us. Sitting in the tractor beside my grandpa, I realize that these moments were about more than farming.
They were about passing down wisdom, work ethic, and a love for the land that ties generations together.