Harvest Moon
by Ken Pierpont
He was a farmer, a factory laborer, and a country pastor. He worked hard, lived simply, and loved his family. He farmed a small hill-farm and raised beef cattle and some grain for feed. In the summer, his grandchildren would come and bale hay, fish in the pond, and eat sweet corn and garden-ripe tomatoes.
When harvesttime came, he would piece together his old one-row corn picker and oil it up for the season. It had seen many seasons. He pulled it behind a little Ford 9-N tractor with a wagon behind. It was a noisy contraption, nothing like these huge, modern, green monsters you see these days, shaving the grain off flat fields in wide gulps.
His whole operation was like that. Simple. Basic. His life was like that too. He worked hard, helped others, and kept his promises. That’s what made it so hard one autumn when difficult circumstances closed in on him. He needed to harvest a few acres of his own corn. He also had promised to harvest a few ribbons of corn that wound around the hills on a friend’s farm.
Problems came. First, equipment trouble. Usually, he was able to fabricate something or rig the equipment so the job could be done, but after he had harvested his own corn, his little corn picker coughed, sputtered, and quit. He would have to wait on parts. The factory where he worked had orders to fill and began to require overtime. He had to leave home before light and arrive home after dark.
He sat at the kitchen table over a cup of awful coffee while he wondered aloud what to do. His wife said, “There’s nothing you can do. You will just have to tell the neighbor that your equipment broke down and you can’t do it.”
He thought long and hard. The idea didn’t set well with him. His friend was depending on him.
“If you don’t have the equipment, you just can’t do it,” his wife said.
“Well, I could do it the way we used to do it. I could harvest it by hand.”
“You don’t have time to do that with the overtime; besides, it would be dark.”
He walked across the room and consulted the Farmer’s Almanac.
“Says here we’re due for a harvest moon this month. If it’s clear, that will give me the light I need to work in the night after I get home. I think we can do it.”
And that’s what he did. The weather was cold and clear and the moon was brilliant. After work, he made his way to the field, and his wife met him in the truck with dinner and a thermos of more awful coffee. Then he worked through the night to keep his word.
I know this story well, because the farmer was my grandfather. I was named after him. My grandpa worked hard and kept his promises. Sometimes, when I am tempted to cut corners or defer responsibilities, I think of my grandfather out under the harvest moon bending low and swinging his sharp corn-knife. I can hear the thump of ears of corn hitting the wood of the wagon floor. I can hear the music of geese honking their way across the cold October sky. I can see their silhouette against the harvest moon.
In the dark, early hours of the morning, his work is done. He pulls his tired body up into the seat of the old tractor and starts down the gravel road for home. The sun comes over the ridge, and behind him rows of corn stalks stand at attention in respect of a man who keeps his word.
Ken Pierpont has been married to his wife Lois since 1979. They have eight children, four sons and four daughters. Ken has been a pastor for over 20 years.
