Newest at the bottom, the way a harvest goes.

Tuesday, September 7, 1999
Labor Day was yesterday and nobody out here labored any less. Wayne and Brady spent it going over the combine. The beans on the home place are starting to turn yellow at the bottom. The corn is drying down well. We had enough rain in July and not too much in August, and it looks like a good crop. That's the joke of it. A good crop and no price. Kelsey started high school last week and informed me that I am not allowed to wave at her in the parking lot.

Monday, September 13
Elevator bid on new-crop beans this morning was about $4.25. Wayne did the math on the back of an envelope at breakfast, then folded it up and put it in his shirt pocket. We'll put in for the loan deficiency payment when the beans are in the bin. Without it I don't want to think about it.

Sunday, September 19
Our monthly potluck after church. Twelve families this time. The Hendersons are selling their cows. The Mertz boy is going to Des Moines to work construction. But old Mr. Stueve, who farmed through the thirties, stood up with his coffee and said he'd seen worse and he'd seen it get better, and I believed him, because he's ninety-one and he's still here.

Tuesday, September 21
Watching the news about the flooding in eastern North Carolina after that hurricane, all that water. They showed hog farms under the flood. I had to turn it off. We know a little about losing hogs, but not like that, not all at once to a river. Pastor called this morning to ask whether we should take up a collection on Sunday for the farm families out there, and I said yes before he finished the question. Even people who don't have two nickels this year will put something in. That's farm people.

Wednesday, September 22
Started on beans this afternoon on the south eighty. They're running pretty good, better than we figured. Brady drove the grain cart after school. He's a better driver than his father, but don't tell either one I said so. I brought supper out to the field at seven: sloppy joes, chips, bars, and a thermos of coffee. We ate on the tailgate while the sun went down red. For about twenty minutes it felt like any other harvest.

Friday, September 24
Homecoming game tonight. Brady plays on the line. We almost didn't go because of the beans, and then Wayne said, "The beans will be there tomorrow. He's a senior once." We won. Kelsey sat as far from us in the bleachers as physics allows.

Saturday, September 25
Combine broke down at 10 a.m., a bearing. Parts store in town had one, thank the Lord. Wayne had it running again by two. We finished the south eighty and started on the rented ground north of the road. Hauled four loads to the elevator. The line was long and everybody in it looked tired.

Sunday, September 26
We don't combine on Sundays unless weather's coming, and it's not. So church, then a nap, then this. I'm tired in my bones. But tonight I sat on the back step and looked across at the fields, half cut, and the empty hog barns, and the lights in the kitchen where Kelsey was doing homework, and I thought, we're still here. We're still here. I'll write more when the beans are in.