Dan R Fowler
Bio
Dan R. Fowler. 71, writing is more than a hobby, it's a place for me to become anyone I choose to be, visit mystical scenes, or swim deep within my brain. e-book paperback, or audible. type dan r fowler on the search line. Amazon
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Stories (266/0)
The Planting
The Planting At times, there are memories that set themselves apart from the causal ones, those daily ones that we don't pay much attention to. Living at a place that was called O'Toole, my dad tilled the land (or he hired a person to do it) that was downhill from the house, a patch of property of about two acres. The method he used, or hired someone to use, involved a horse or mule, and a plow. It wasn't anything fancy, definitely nothing up-to-date as the world would see it today. A horse or mule and plow with a man to yell ("gee" generally means turn right, while "haw" means turn left.) was all it took to get the good earth turned and ready for planting. Leaving the back-breaking work after the plowing called sod-bustin', to be done that would take some time. From early morning when the dew was still glistening on the grass yet to be turned under, my brothers and I would walk with my dad to the virgin field just over the embankment off of the dirt road down from our coal-mining camp house. The coal mines weren't known, at least at that time, for paying the miners much money for the backbreaking work and long hours of breathing coal dust that would later cause Black Lung. In the early ages of the coal fields, many coal miners tilled their yards and fields to grow enough food to feed their families. It was a struggle to till the land because most of the land was on downhill slopes and was hard to get to plow. No matter what I thought or what my brothers thought, my Dad was determined to "turn the earth", he use to say. "You can smell life in the dirt," he'd say as we stood watching the "Gee Haw" man getting ready to put the bridle around the horse he brought with him from another field. He'd trained his animal and hired it out to the local miners in the area. The Gee Hall man was hired by many of the local coal miners because coal miners didn't know the tricks of the trade to get the horse or mule to turn left or right. The "Gee Haw" man was someone that my dad relied on to get the job done every spring right after the shows finished up and the dirt was dry enough to start planting seeds in. Living there on the hill, we were given instructions that required application, a hands-on approach that meant getting our hands dirty. There wasn't any sitting back and letting someone else do the work for us. Perhaps we didn't 'bust all the sod', but we gave it our best shot. We were children, my older brother David, me, and my younger brother (at that time) Billy Joe, learning the value of the land and developing 'character', as we were told. There wasn't anything like, "I don't want to do it or I'm not into this stuff." As children, we did our part, howbeit not the greater part of preparing the land for planting. We did what we could do with what we had. A spade, a mattock, and a pitchfork were common friends helping us get the job done. Mostly, Dad and the gee-haw man did a far greater portion to turn the land and get it ready for planting. The day was long and hot as the afternoon sun baked our heads and sweat poured off of our backs as we followed along behind my dad and the Gee Hall man until all of the fields were turned from green to dark brown. It was ready. We were there to observe, do what we could, and remember the lessons being taught. My Dad, a simple man from a simple era, planted integrity and honesty in his for boys who were yet to become men.
By Dan R Fowlerabout a year ago in Men
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