If you are a regular reader of this column, you are aware that my fondness for the country stems from my boyhood days on a little farm left to my family by my grandfather.

Most of the farms in those days were small. Adjoining our place was a much larger farm. It took about 50 mules to work that farm. Today mules have disappeared from the farming scene, replaced by all sorts of mechanized equipment.

All the animals on our farm had names. There was Molly, the mule; Betty and Gene, the milk cows and Porky, the old sow that would furnish us with little piggies from time to time.

Usually, we would have a yard full of chickens for our eggs and meat. Farm animals were a necessity no matter how small a farm was.

I remember being taught to pray for good crops in order to continue to operate and make ends meet.

I suppose Molly, the old mule, was loved more than the other animals because of her faithfulness. There was scarcely a day in the year that she wasn’t used for some sort of work.

I will never forget the day she died. I have no idea what the cause of death was, but we buried Molly under the large persimmon tree adjacent to the feedlot.

These days, as we experience some drastic changes because of the poor economic, I find myself thinking more about my youth. Picture, along with me, the way things are now compared to the way they were on our little farm. Let me share with you items that were necessary year-round to produce crops. To begin with, we had the two-horse wagon. It was used for many things – to haul cotton from the fields and corn and fodder used for food for the animals as well as other things.

Then there was the mowing machine used to cut the grain such as wheat and oats. There was the stalk cutter we used to cut the dead stalk to prepare the land for the next year’s planting. Seeing the equipment used to operate today’s large farms, our old equipment would seem like toys.

I mentioned earlier the large farm that had approximately 50 mules. On pretty spring days when the farm hands were working hard in the fields, it would look like a dust storm out there.

When I could still see well, I would enjoy watching the dust fly from those giant, modern pieces of farm equipment. And, automatically, my mind would drift back to my love and appreciation for everything that God has given to us.

Lest we forget ...

T&D Columnist Rinehart Chewning is a longtime resident of Holly Hill. Discuss this and other stories online at TheTandD.com.

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