I grew up in the country, not really on the farm. I worked for my daddy on the farm just enough to be dangerous. Enough to know we’re a John Deere family. Enough to recognize wheat, soybeans, milo and corn. Enough to know it’s long, hot, hard days working on the farm.
I’m not sure who was more thankful, dad or Michelle and me, when we had boyfriends who could work on the farm instead of us girls. (This is my daddy on the combine)
I didn’t truly appreciate wheat harvest growing up. It was hard, hot, dirty work. I'm not really designed for such things. :)
Now, I love it! Probably because I can just go watch and take photos instead of actually working. The older I get, the more sentimental I become about wheat harvest and the farm.
I loved watching him work. He took great pride in his work and wanted to please his grandpa so much. He’s talking the talk now and likes to impress anyone who will listen.
On the way home from the farm on Father’s Day, Eli asked what would happen to the farm if something happens to his Grandpa Dan. I love it that Eli has the farm bug and wants to make sure the farm is well cared for.
My dad is the last male Randall in our family. The family name stops with him. Eli is the only grandson on my side of the family so we gave him my maiden name as his middle name. We’re counting on him to carry on the Randall name and tradition. I’m so pleased he gets it in his spirit now!