Rehoboth Farm

For most people seeing a tractor at work in a field is something that happens while you are on vacation, or in the rare instance (these days) when the family is out for a drive in the country. I always wondered what it would be like to make a living from the seat of a tractor, rolling through an immense field, keeping your path straight by concentrating on a large oak tree that is a mile in front of you. When I got my first camera at the age of 18, Kim and I would peruse the countryside looking for a taste of real farm life. I would take pictures of tractors and farm buildings, and Kim would take pictures of cows; lots and lots of cows. When my Grandmother died in 1986 she left me over 500 Kodachrome slides that my Grandfather had taken back in the 1950Â’s. Many of them were taken while my Grandparents took trips through the countryside. To my great satisfaction I discovered that, in true family style, many were of tractors, farm buildings, and yes many were of cows.

For years we had looked for land. One of the real estate agents that helped us from time to time was Richard, a fellow home-schooler with 10 children. Richard lives in the northern part of our county, a beautiful area known as Pleasant Valley that lies between two mountains. We called Richard one day and told him what we were looking for. He said that there was nothing listed at the time but asked if he could call us back; of course we said sure. Later that night he called and said that the house next door to him was for sale, although not on the market. He explained that it was owned by a gentleman from Atlanta that used it as a hunting cabin during open season. His wife was ill and Richard had called him to see if he was interested in selling, and heÂ’d said yes. His name was Mr. Powers.

We went and looked at the house the next day. Although nearly an hour from town and far from perfect it did provide a unique starting place for a small farm. It came with seven acres, and seven additional acres adjacent to it were also for sale. The additional seven acres were owned by a gentleman named Mr. Kendrick who lived across the street. Come to find out, Mr. Kendrick built the house that we were interested in, for him and his wife back in the 1960Â’s. It was part of his parentsÂ’ land of nearly 1000 acres at the time. Mr. Kendrick sold the house to Mr. Powers and moved back into his parentsÂ’ house (who were now deceased) across the street. We agreed on a price with Mr. Powers on the condition that our current house sell first.

For a nearly year and a half we tried to sell our house. Finally, along with Mr. Powers, we all agreed that the Lord must not be in it. Having to face the fact that we had no reason to go out to Pleasant Valley anymore was hard. While we were leaving one day we ran into Mr. Kendrick, and I told him that if he ever needed anything to please let us know. He looked away for a minute and then said that he might need some help ‘puttin up some hay’ the following week. We quickly agreed and said to just let us know when and where and we would be there. Of course at this time our exposure to real farm life was limited and my exposure to heavy equipment was non-existent.

He called the next week and asked for us to meet him at Mr. Powers place the next day. I gladly agreed and asked him what he needed us to do with the hay. He said "Oh I just need some help rakinÂ’ it and gettinÂ’ it in the barn, that kind of thing". I imagined our family out in the field, everyone with a rake in hand, putting the hay into piles while Mr. Kendrick heaped it onto a truck and toted it to the barn. The next day we showed up at the field, and standing there was Mr. Kendrick with two tractors. One was a huge John Deere with what I knew to be a large round hay baler attached to it. The other was a smaller John Deere with an odd contraption attached to it that had giant round metal swirls on it. I started to sweat. We piled out of the car, while Mr. Kendrick walked up to us smiling as usual. "You ready"? He asked. "Um...yep" I said. I was lying. "Okay, I drive the baler, you drive the rake, got it?" I looked at the ground covered with freshly cut hay, all fourteen acres of it. How could I have thought that we were going to rake this by hand? I suddenly realized that love for the country life had gotten us in over our heads once again, and this time we were going to take Mr. Kendrick with us. I looked over at the assembled tractors and equipment, trying to estimate in my head how much they were worth, so I knew how much I would owe when I wrapped them around the first pine tree.

Mr. Kendrick said that he had to run down the street for a minute but he would be right back and we would get started. I grinned until he was out of sight, and then Kim and the children came over and started asking me how I was going to drive a tractor. Drive a tractor?, I said. What about raking hay with that thing? I ran over and got into the drivers seat. I found the keys and tried to find a gear shift diagram. I found a square of dirt that was higher than the other dirt and wiped my finger across it. Sure enough there lied an ancient shift sticker. I found neutral and started the engine. "Do you know what youÂ’re doing?", came a chorus of voices. "No" I said, "But I only have a few minutes to figure it out". I fiddled with several levers, all which seemed to do nothing. Finally I found one that began to raise and lower the hay rake; Kim and the children ran for cover. "Maybe you should just tell Mr. Kendrick that you donÂ’t know how", Kim said. I disagreed, humiliation would only make the situation worse. Just as I was just getting a feel for all of the mechanisms I saw Mr. Kendrick returning.

He pulled up, jumped out of his truck, asked our son Mike if he wanted to join him, and the two of them climbed into the cab of his tractor. He then gave me the high sign. I lowered the hay rake, found first gear, said a prayer and let out the clutch. It was like jumping onto a horse at full gallop; both of my feet flew up into the air as I started to fall over backwards, while all the time I was clinging to the steering wheel for dear life. I quickly looked back to see if Mr. Kendrick was watching. He was smiling and waving and pointing at the fence line next to me. We had started out directly along a barbed-wire fence line that was now precariously close to the tines of the hay rake. I could just imagine the rake and the fence getting tangled together and pieces of metal starting to fly everywhere.

I eased away from the fence. Looking back I could see the rake draw the hay into a neat row, where Mr. Kendrick’s baler was picking it up. Okay, I thought, at least I’m still moving. We drove around the fields for about 2 hours; every so often Mr. Kendrick would drive off and deposit a 1000 pound round bale in a neat line that he was making along one side of the pasture. It was a great experience actually. I finally felt like we weren’t playing ‘farm’ any more and now we were actually doing something. Of course we weren’t making money yet, but Mr. Kendrick was and that was good enough. We were finally able to do something for someone who had done a lot for us, and enjoying it immensely at the same time. The best part was that it was actually work. It was dusty, dirty, noisy and dangerous, and somehow that made the fact that it was so much fun not seem so self-indulgent.

When we finished the last row I pulled up near where Kim and the children were playing and turned off the tractor. Kim walked up to me, she was smiling from ear to ear because she knew I was trying not to. Just then Mr. Kendrick and Mike pulled up and stopped. Climbing out of the cab Mr. Kendrick was laughing out loud. "Boy thatÂ’s gotta be the funniest thing I believe IÂ’ve ever heard!" "WhatÂ’s that?" I asked. He explained that about half way through with the job he told Mike that he was glad that he had finally found someone that could rake hay good. "How longÂ’s your Daddy been rakinÂ’ hay?" he asked Mike. "Never", Mike said. "Huh?, Well then how long has he been driving tractors?" "My Dad has never driven a tractor before in his life", Mike answered. Mr. Kendrick said that his heart nearly stopped for a second or two there. "Man I about fell out, I even thought about stoppinÂ’ for a minute there, but then I figured, you were doing so good, why?"

While we were working I noticed that a car had pulled over to the side of the road across the street. This was odd because it is a narrow 2-lane road that does not have much of a shoulder and so any car parked along there would stand out. It was a shiny expensive looking car and I could see two people inside. After watching it for a while I made a pass close to the road to investigate. A man was reclining somewhat in the driver’s seat while a woman in the passenger seat was taking pictures. At first I wondered what they were taking pictures of, until I realized that it was us. What a strange feeling. For so long it had been us taking pictures of ‘real’ country scenes, and now we were the real country scene. I suddenly realized what a great picture it was; two tractors, moving in unison, a long stream of neatly rolled hay trailing the first one, only to disappear into the second one where a young red-headed boy sat and laughed with an older gentleman farmer, and all of this taking place in a lush green meadow of grass. We had advanced from being the artist, to being the subject.