photo from flickr creative commons - tpmartin
Our recent visit to Idaho
in October
reminded me of
potato harvest.
Every October
in Idaho where I grew up
school was closed for
two weeks
so all of the students
could help with
the harvest.
I was a
combine worker.
Every morning when
it was still dark,
we would head up
to the
dry farms.
We had to wear layers
as it started out
cold,
got warmer through
the day, and then
cold again at night.
We wore scarves around
our necks
to pull up over our faces
when the wind
filled the air with
dust and dirt.
Sunset from a combine
was a beautiful sight...
and it meant
that it was almost time
to go home.
Every night
our ears and eyes
and noses
were filled with dirt.
We had to peel off
each layer of clothing
very carefully,
because they were
filled
with dirt too.
When I tried to go to sleep,
all I could see in
my mind's eye
were potatoes, moving
past me on the conveyer belt
of the combine.
Sleep would eventually come,
but I was still picking out
the dirt clods
and weeds
and rotten potatoes
in my dreams.
The best part
of potato harvest
was walking in the door every night
to the sounds of the
World Series
on TV.
I still like to eat
potatoes.
And I still like
to watch the
World Series.
But I doubt I'll ever
work on a combine
again.
