The last day of school has come and gone, and the picnic is over. It is a strenuous but happy time for children and parents alike with its ice cream and other eatables and the reports of "who passed" and the chatter about summer plans and next year's work.
At Ruth's school we had a fine big crowd. The men came in just for dinner in their field clothes, for the days are crowded to the brim with hereabouts with work hereabouts and they could not come for all day. But a matter how busy they are, it was worthwhile for them to come in for a short time on such a day. Someway the children are a little prouder and happier if an event is important enough to have daddy there. Mothers are always on deck, of course. They have to come to bring the lunch. if nothing else in they usually visit school a few times during the year. But it takes special inducement to get the fathers out. We had tons of laughing and fun. And after dinner when the men had gone back to their tractors and the little ones have gone outdoors to romp, and the "big boys" had gone to practice for the graduation operetta, the women organized a parent teachers association. That is the third rural PTA in our neighborhood, and we are proud of all of them.
And now all that activity is off our minds till fall. What we must have now, is a long pull and a strong pull and a pull in altogether to get the crop in. The women and children must look after chickens and garden, and as many of the chores as possible: lunches must be taken to the men in the fields, and every moment must be made to count. The weather stays cold and cloudy and windy but we have bad enough have had enough dry weather for plowing and disking. On a good day, we can actually count eight tractors, weaving their tireless way back-and-forth across fields from daylight to dark, trailing back black ribbons of mellow soil, and we can hear the roar of many more that are out of sight. The very proverbial peace and quiet of the countryside has disappeared for the time being.
The incessant rumble might be nerve-racking to a vacationist, but to us, it is music in our ears. It means achievement of worthwhile things to us, and it means safety and prosperity for the coming year. We'd a lot rather hear that rumble than not! The days when the tractors have to be idle, are the days that are nerve-racking to us this spring. – Hope.