MORE HARVEST STORIES

I think at one time my dad cut his own grain, but eventually he only harvested the lentils. I don’t know specific reasons, but I’m sure it related to the small, outdated equipment. By 1960, self-propelled combines were the equipment to have. My, we thought they were so big! They moved faster and cut a wider swath, and that shortened harvest time. We couldn’t afford one, nor was it practical to own one with only 100 acres in cultivation.

In the '60s, my dad arranged for a neighbor, Elmer Bell, to cut our grain. Elmer came over with his big self-propelled combine, and we took turns climbing on while Daddy took pictures.  Such a machine was revolutionary in the agricultural community. At the time I certainly didn’t consider that a combine could ever be bigger than this. Farmer Kyle’s machines would all dwarf Elmer’s "little" combine.

Elmer’s helper was his wife, Myrtle, a quiet, unassuming little lady. She was a “Phar” – early settlers at Gilbert. Myrtle drove truck for Elmer – a big dump truck. In fact, I seem to recall two dump trucks. She took the full one to the elevator at Nezperce and while she was gone, he began to fill the other. She spent the day making trips back and forth to the grain elevator at Nezperce. Because she worked, they didn’t have to pay a truck driver.

 

And my mother was now more comfortable with her role. When they worked for us, Elmer and Myrtle came to the house for the noon meal which Mother prepared. The food was simple – meat and potatoes, fresh vegetables, and a fruit pie for dessert. That’s the kind of cook Mother was – simple preparations, always right, smooth gravies and sauces. Providing a meal for the Bells was more like serving friends than feeding a farm crew. I remember Myrtle saying that after a long day in the field, they were so tired that they simply ate a dish of ice cream for supper and went to bed.

After one of these noon dinners, Mother and I finished the dishes and went out on the back porch to watch the combine work in the north field. As we watched, the dump truck, heavily loaded with grain, lumbered from the field into the lane, which descends into the gulley and then rises steeply to Dobson Road a quarter mile from the house.  The truck with Myrtle at the wheel had begun the ascent when she stalled. As we watched, Mother realized the difficulty but didn’t know how to help.  Myrtle had no choice but to let the truck roll back into the gulley where half the grain was spilled in the ditch. She said later that she just wished for Dorothy or Kathy to come and put a rock behind the back wheel. I’ve thought about that incident often because as guilty as Mother felt for failing to go to Myrtle’s aid, I think it would have been very dangerous and perhaps ineffective. Maybe it was just best to lose a little grain. I’m sure it was an unsettling experience for Myrtle. Daddy and Elmer shoveled up what grain they could, and harvest went on.

I can’t remember how harvest was managed from year to year, but as Chuck observed, we were in the midst of change. One thing I do know -- it never came up that I should be the harvest helper – not in my hearing anyway. I know the farm kids at school were harvest helpers, some of them even driving truck by the age of 14. Idaho schools didn’t open until after Labor Day in deference to the fact that farm kids were needed to help with harvest.

In 1969, my dad signed a contract with Neil Miller of Miller Road, our neighbor to the north who had expanded his family’s farmland. His operation was nearby and he had the equipment to take on another 100 acres. Neil was a loyal friend and operator for the next 35 years. Daddy maintained the house, outbuildings and yard, but Neil kept watch on the place when we weren’t there. When Daddy could no longer mow the lawn, Neil did it for him.

[The first four pictures were taken in 1963. 1) Elmer and Myrtle Bell. 2) Elmer at the wheel of his combine, Polly (5 years old), my mother, and me on the steps (13 years old). 3) Nina and Polly. 4) Mother and Polly.

5 & 6) The lane looking back toward the house, taken earlier this month. The truck stalled in the area shown in the bottom of the pictures. When we decided to move to the farm, Mike insisted on a correction here. A culvert was installed and the road filled somewhat. It's still steep but not as dangerous as it was.] KW