My Dad is a farmer.

Yes a real life, working the dirt kind of man.  He tills the soil, or sometimes he uses no-till.  He always plants & harvests it.

In the spring he worries about rain & getting the crops in on time.

In the fall he worries again about rain & sometimes snow & getting the crops out on time.

His hands always...always...look dirty.  Even when he washes them.  He works hard.  Gloves are optional.


He grows corn, sorghum, soybeans, wheat, and my personal favorite - beef cattle.  I have eaten at some amazing steak joints in my high profile job days - never has one touched the flavor of my Dads.

He doesn't have a college degree, but he's smarter than anyone I know.  Sometimes using your hands is the best way to learn.

He drives big tractors with cabs, and sometimes tractors without cabs. 

He works in the blazing heat, pouring rain, and icy cold.  I have personally seen snot frozen on his nose.

He always carries a hankie.

He doesn't get sick days, or vacation days.  Someone still has to feed the cattle no matter what.  That is dedication.


He gets kicked in the nuts...literally...and gets up and walks it off.  He is tough squared.

He likes when the grand kids tag along.  I used to tag along when I was a little - I did not enjoy it. 

 It was hot, buggy, and always stinky and dirty.  I prefer Moms pedicures and shopping trips.  I did however like the snacks.  There were always...always...snacks with Dad and Grandpa Everett.  Ice cream, Snickers, Little Debbie's - always snacks.


Everett loves to farm.  He loves to fix things.  I hope he becomes the next American farmer.  We need more men that understand the value of true hard work, breaking your back for a dollar, working hard for your family.  There aren't enough of these amazing men around & I'm proud to be the daughter of one!


6 Comments