It’s What Neighbors Do

It’s what neighbors do. It’s a simple statement, but a true adage for life in the country.  I am always amazed at how tough farmers have to be to survive but underneath their armor, many times, beats a heart filled with compassion.  This photo is a prime example of why I love living in the country.  There are three different combines in their neighbor’s field bringing in my 80-year-old friend’s harvest.  That’s what neighbors do out here.  One of the finest men I have ever had the privilege to call a friend has develop a vision condition that plagues many farmers who have spent years in intense sunlight.  He had to make some hard choices. This would be his last harvest as he found honest farmers he would trust to rent out his land; but he still had to get in this year’s crop.  Those men knew just what to do. They all got together and within a few days, they brought in his last harvest. They refused to allow my friend to even pay for the diesel to run the equipment, because that’s what neighbors do.

Yes, I have the same lump in my throat that comes up every time I think about the tornado that swept through our area several years ago.  One dairy farm was hard hit with his house and barns heavily damaged.  Injured and frightened cows, some impaled with boards, had to be cared for quickly.  It was time for action and here they came. Area farmers and my friend and his family just started showing up with equipment. Front loaders, bulldozers, trailers and tractors began clearing debris.  A local vet came and treated the injured stock.  Those dairy cows were rounded up and loaded before nightfall.  A generous young dairyman who had just built a new barn offered the victim of this tragedy the use of his old barn simply because. It’s what neighbors do. 

Now was it all Polly Anna good times?  No.  There was another farmer who told everyone off and stated, in no uncertain terms, that none of those cows were coming on his property. That was his choice but the incredible thing is, if that old goat gets into a pickle, those same farmers would not turn their backs on him in his time of need. Simply because it’s what neighbors do.

This is a view of my neighbor’s place from my front porch at dawn.  I know in my heart that one of the reasons I succeed as a homesteader is due to all the help these folks gave me especially the first year out here.  I would take my book over and ask my older friend what he thought about this new technique. He would call me a “city slicker” and tell me a better way to accomplish the task.  He has never been wrong, not once, on any question I have put to him.  I am praying that my stoic German farmer friend, who can still lift a bale of hay like it’s a feather, enjoys the next season of his life without the pressure of farming. I am sure he will be out helping folks when a need arises, simple because, it’s what neighbors do.  With a thankful heart, Annie May