A Winter Homecoming

The air is thick with anticipation and exhaustion as finals week reaches its peak. Late-night cramming and the pursuit of academic excellence consume every spare moment, pushing toward the finish line of the semester. With only a handful of tests standing between me and winter break, the promise of rest and return home to the family farm becomes a bright beacon of motivation.

As finals come to a close, I pack my truck, leaving the stress of exams behind. The road home is an adventure in itself, covered in a blanket of snow with traces of plowed paths barely visible. That’s just the paved part. Then I drive deeper into rural America and as I approach the family farm, the landscape transforms into a winter wonderland, snow drifting gently across the stubble fields.

Over a few hills, the glow of the shop light pierces through the falling snow, guiding me home. The warmth of the familiar scene sparks a sense of comfort and nostalgia. This is more than just a home; it's a generational haven. The same house that cradled my childhood also embraced my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. A home entrenched in the history of our family, just like the fields that stretch around it.

Entering the door, the threshold of generations, I'm greeted by the familiar scent of home. It's a blend of memories, shared laughter, and the essence of a place that holds the history of my ancestors. The evening unfolds around the dinner table, filled with lively conversation and inquiries about finals week. But soon, the embrace of slumber beckons, for mornings on the farm come early.

The next day unfolds in the pre-dawn silence, marked by a steaming cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. The snowy landscape awaits outside, and the rhythm of farm life resumes. Bundled against the winter chill, I venture into the wonderland to feed the herd and then make my way to the shop. There, the combines rest, patiently waiting for attention.

In eight short months, these machines will roar to life, gracing the golden wheat fields once more. This harvest will be special – my first as the fifth generation to officially return home. The farm, a testament to tradition and hard work, awaits my full-time commitment come spring, post-college graduation.

Working side by side with family becomes a daily reality during winter break. The shop buzzes with activity as we prepare equipment for the upcoming spring. It's a collective effort, each family member contributing their skills and knowledge to ensure a prosperous harvest. The farm, a living legacy, demands not just preservation but progression.

Continuing the tradition of passing the farm to the next generation is both an honor and a responsibility. Our family has upheld this legacy for generations, a rare opportunity to work alongside those who share your bloodline and your goals. As we gather in the shop, whether arguing or laughing, we are unified by a common purpose – to provide high-quality, safe, and affordable food for all.

As winter break draws to a close, I reflect on the invaluable experiences gained in the shop. It's more than fixing equipment; it's a transfer of knowledge, a bridge between generations. Whether sticking to the traditional ways or embracing new approaches, the journey is a shared one, a tapestry woven by the hands of family.

Returning to college after winter break carries a new weight. The knowledge gained in the shop, the lessons learned from family, and the anticipation of a future spent cultivating the land shape the path ahead. From finals week to the farm, the journey is a testament to the enduring power of generational traditions and the gratitude that accompanies being part of something greater than oneself.