Gleaners

Scott, Kelsey, Luke, and Kerry grudgingly made their way through the corn stubble in the field east of their grandpa’s peach trees. They were fanned out behind Richard and were watching the ground as they walked. Each person carried a bucket containing varying amounts of corn. Scott stopped and bent down to pick up an ear. He pulled the husk from the ear before dropping it into his bucket.

“What is it that we’re doing again?” Kelsey inquired from Scott’s left.

“Gleaning,” Scott replied with a sigh.

“Why?” Kelsey inquired further. “It’s not like Dad can’t give him some corn if that’s what he wants.”

“Well who would use the corn that’s left in the field then?” Richard interjected with a smile.

The kids didn’t answer. Richard, having lived through The Great Depression, had a different perspective on life than the children. His coveralls were decorated with patches, he wore socks that he had purchased over twenty years earlier, he spooned dressing off his grandchildren’s salads when they over applied, and he gleaned the fields for corn. That’s just the way things were. He never wasted anything and he never let anything go to waste. (I realize that the last sentence seems repetitive but wasting implies active waste while letting something go to waste is more passive. Wasting is throwing away a pair of coveralls instead of patching a hole. Letting something go to waste is not gleaning corn in an already harvested field. Also, gleaning is the act of collecting the grain that was left behind by the people who harvested the field. See Ruth chapter two for another example of this practice.)

“Why do you need this corn anyways, Grandpa?” Luke asked.

“Well, I’m going to feed it to the pigs,” Richard replied with a shrug.

Every autumn, Richard went to the livestock auction in search of pigs. He always bid on the runts because they were the cheapest pigs available. He’s buy three or four of them, sometimes more and raise them through the winter until President’s Day. At that point, the pigs would be butchered to feed the Henning family. Richard would feed the pigs apples from his orchard, corn acquired through gleaning, table scraps, and milk from the farm that was not suitable for human consumption. Needless to say, by the time President’s Day rolled around, none of the pigs looked like runts.

All this meant that the Henning kids were pressed into service from time to time to contribute to the process. They didn’t relish the idea of participating in such a capacity but they accepted that this sort of thing was just par for the course. They enjoyed a lot of activities with their grandfather who was particularly accommodating to their wants and desires (within bounds of reason) so they felt inclined to accommodate him from time to time. (It’s not as if they really had a choice. They were at their grandpa’s house so they did what their grandpa asked of them.) 

The children converged for a break around Richard who passed around a plastic mug full of water. Once the children enjoyed a drink, they emptied their buckets into a burlap sack. Scott sat on a bucket and absentmindedly flicked kernels off and ear of corn and into his bucket. 

He looked around at the field in which they worked. It was uncharacteristically flat for the family farm. The Henning farm was primarily nestled in the valley of two large hills. Richard and Mary lived on top of the eastern hill where there were a couple of flatter fields that bordered the houses on Baird Road. Scott glanced longingly at the peach trees to his right. Peach season was over so Scott’s days of grabbing a peach or three off the tree for his own enjoyment were over until the next year. No more peaches to eat, just corn to glean. He looked behind him at the woods towards the back of the family property. The trees were ablaze with color. Red, orange, and yellow had pushed the green from the trees over the last few weeks creating the color pallet of fall. The tan fields of yet-to-be-harvested corn looked bland against the colorful backdrop. The seasons were changing. Every day, night crept over the farm just a little earlier and morning came just a little later. The warmth of the summer faded into the coolness of autumn. Hoodies and jackets came out of storage and hayrides and bonfires became the activities of choice. The orange pumpkins in Richards garden became more prominent as their vines withered and died. It was hard to imagine that summer was in full swing a few short weeks ago and winter was just around the corner. It was hard for the children to let go of summer, but the season change offered its own special brand of exhilaration. With the passing of each season came the dawn of the next. It was amazing to see the seasonal transitions display the glory of God.

Fall is a good thing, Scott nodded to himself. Even if it means that we have to glean corn.