014—Lancaster Farming, Saturday, April 12,1980
Sights and sounds of
an awakening land
BY DICK ANGLESTEIN
LANCASTER COUNTY -
The land awakens in many
different ways.
A wanning wind whirs
through trees which yawn
and stretch their bareness as
if shedding the final kinks
and stiffness of a long and
deep slumber.
Each small, swaying
brown tentacle is tipped with
the beginning of a new life
that will soon burst forth into
a cloak of green.
The wind’s whir is never
constant.
As a whisper, it gently
nudges the budding bran
ches into a lazy, bobbing
motion.
Suddenly, the volume
accelerates into partially a
whine and partially a
whistle, pitching and rolling
the trees’ fragile framework
frantically.
Then, the ever rising and
falling natural whir is mixed
with a steady mechanical
drone off in the distance. The
mobile, mechanized hum
comes from several
directions all at once.
The wrap-around stereo
sound of man and machine
flows forth from a colorful
collage of green, brown and
white.
Across a rolling field of
emerging green, the source
of one such sound moves
systematically to and from a
bam with twin cylindrical
towers. The red tractor tows
an empty spreader toward
tne bam and returns with
heapmg contents for casting
across the land.
Drifting from another
direction is a similar sound
that comes from a tractor
more blue than the sky
overhead. Tugging and
pulling slowly over a field of
brown, it cuts and chisels
into the earth, churning the
smooth, dull shade of ground
m front into a deeper, richer
hue that follows on behind.
And out of yet another
mechanical dm, massive
willowy clouds of white erupt
m great, smoky puffs. In the
wake of the explosion of
white, a powdery dust settles
to the earth like newly
falling snow.
Not too far from these
varied mechanical
agricultural awakening
activities, an elderly couple
moves silently and slowly
through a field.
She carries a small pail
and he grasps a small knife.
He eases into a slow
motion stoop and swirls the
knife deftly around the base
of a flat, spmy plant, neatly
cutting the single root.
Into her pail is tossed the
plant, which in not too many
weeks would blossom forth
into the bright yellow of a
miniature vegetative sun.
But for now, covered with a
warm bacon dressing, it
becomes a tangy dinner
salad for the aged gleaning
couple.
Even the final remnants of
a half-year-old harvest are
being completed in still
another nearby field. Com
stalks, flattened by the
winter’s snow that followed
last fall’s combining, are
being fluffed by a rake. A
baler, just pulled from
storage, stands waiting to
collect and pack the fodder
before the field can be
prepared to launch another
season of growth.
In addition to man and his
machines, animals are to be
- ~
tec**..
increasingly found on the
awakening land.
More and more, splashes
of black and white are
dotting the greening
hillsides. Seemingly anxious
to be free of the confinement
and concrete of bams, they
contentedly settle down onto
the warming earth or amble
aimlessly back and forth.
Stirring also are sheep still
bulging with winter’s
wrapping of wool. As tem
peratures continue to
gradually climb, they ap
pear to sense the fast ap
proaching tune to be shed of
the fleecy, soft coats.
As observed from an
elevated view, the quilt-hke
patchwork of an awakening
land is fast taking shape.
With a needle of spreading
warmth, each day sews a
new patch into the farmland
fabric.
Here, a field is turning a
deepening green.
There, another field is
plowed into a dark, nch
brown.
And over there, lime turns
a field dusty white.
But even as April brings
the land back to life and its
caretakers to ever in
creasing levels of outside
activity, a reminder or two
' r \'
of the faded and
forgotten winter remain.
Large mounds of wood are
neatly stacked next to many
farm houses and rural
homesteads as monuments
to a season just past.
Now, it is a tune that these
stacks will lie idle and
unused.
So, the cycle of pastoral
contrasts goes on.
A time for awakening and
activity. And a tune to he
fallow and rest.
€