Our local bird species are beginning to congregate into flocks for migration south, which signals a sure sign that fall is rapidly approaching. It is a time when we harvest mature garden crops planted last spring. School has started. Trees are beginning to undress. It is a time for preparation for the cold winter months.

The last cutting of alfalfa is in the haymow. The sickle mower, rakes and hay loader have been cleaned, greased and put away in the shed. Our molasses crop has matured and we will be taking the hand-stripped stalks to the processor soon. He will smash the stalks, collect the juice, boil it down and return our winter’s supply of molasses to us. We always try to glean and store everything possible that is edible, including black walnuts, for use by the family.
Fall apples are rapidly ripening and we will be making cider in the cider press any day now. We use Winesap, Golden Delicious and Rome Beauty apples. My family likes to drink the sweet cider but most of it is stored in the big wooden barrel in the basement. It will eventually turn to vinegar for use in the kitchen. We also store apples for pies, applesauce and eating.

The garden must be closed down and prepared for winter. Irish potatoes need to be dug, cleaned and stored in a slotted crate in the storm cellar. Sweet potatoes will be lifted, washed, dried and stored in wooden barrels in the basement. We find that when we alternate layers of oats and sweet potatoes in the barrels they do not readily rot. Beets will be canned but turnips, parsnips and rutabagas are stored in a large, 4-foot-deep hole dug at the end of the garden.
Neighbors work together on butchering day
The root crops will stay fresh for several months when layered with clean straw and covered with a layer of dirt (ground temperature in the hole stays fairly constant). By the way, the extremely small turnip seeds were planted according to the almanac, which suggested “sow your turnips wet or dry on the 26th of July.” We have a wonderful crop this year.
We’ll replenish the wood pile at the back of the house. The crosscut saw and axes are kept sharp. Wood will be cut, split and stored. The kitchen range uses a lot of wood and the large heating stove heats the house. When those winter blizzards envelop us, we depend entirely on those two heating sources to keep us from freezing.
A couple of days each fall are set aside for butchering. Sometimes neighbors bring over their animals and we devote the day to working together to process meat for our winter supply. We butcher several hogs at a time. Hogs are killed, bled and then quickly scalded in the hot water trough. Hair is scraped from each animal and then gambrels are used to hang the carcass so the “insides” can be removed properly.

The women are kept busy on butchering day too. All work together to render lard, prepare and store sausage, and see that various cuts of meat are ready for storage by canning, salting and smoking. Head cheese will be made. Fresh liver and tongue must be consumed before they spoil. By the end of the day, little waste can be found, as most of each carcass is used one way or another. Often portions are taken to friends and neighbors.
Picking 50 acres of corn, one ear at a time
Getting corn harvested is my biggest worry. Enough corn for the livestock will determine whether this farm continues or not. I’ve got to get it out of the field and into the corn crib. It’s a job not easily accomplished. My procrastination gets in the way, for there are always other things I’d rather do than go to the field.
I must get my feeder cattle on a picked field as soon as possible. They graze on dried stalks and any corn I missed. But before I turn them in, I’m going to put a ring in the nose of one maverick steer and hang a chain from it. He thinks he can go through any fence I have. I’ve spent hours chasing him around the countryside. Enough is enough!

Last spring, I planted between 10,000 and 11,000 kernels of corn on each acre. A high percentage of those kernels grew, produced strong stalks, and eventually developed a healthy ear or two. Fifty acres were planted to corn. A good growing season has produced an excellent crop. When driving to the field with my team and bangboard-fitted wagon I become overwhelmed with the thought of hand-husking the thousands and thousands of ears that need to be thrown into the wagon. I must eventually drop that terrifying thought and simply get busy … one ear at a time.
Harvest is a grueling routine
The first day or two is spent shucking two rows of corn at a time and retraining the horses to keep the wagon at my side as I move down the rows. It isn’t long before I don’t need to use the lines or my voice to communicate with the horses. It’s always interesting how they somehow sense when I move along the rows. They know they need to move forward a wagon length before they stop and wait for me to approach them again. I pray that very little lodging has taken place for it’s hard on my back to stoop to husk downed stalks.
Muscles in my hands, wrists and arms are sore for the first few days of picking. I use cotton two-thumbed gloves, my favorite palm hook over my glove, and completely wear out a pair every few days. My typical day of picking corn begins long before sunup. All livestock must be fed and watered. Horses are brought in from the pasture, fed and harnessed while they eat their breakfast. Cows are milked and the milk processed in the cream separator. I’ll eat a hearty breakfast and fill a jug with water to take to the field. Upon returning to the barn, I’ll hitch the team to the wagon. I try to be in the field as soon as I can see the ears, hopefully before sunup. Some frosty mornings my gloves get wet from frost and my hands get intensely cold and painful.

Each morning is spent throwing ear after ear at the wagon’s bangboard which allows the ear to fall into the wagon. By sunup on a quiet morning, the sounds of corn ears hitting the bangboards of neighbors’ wagons can be heard all around. Harvest is in full swing! With steady picking, my wagon will have 40-50 bushels in it by noon. I’ll drive to the corn crib with my load, let down the scoop board and scoop the corn into a slotted wooden-walled corn crib.
Time to prioritize, dream, observe and be grateful
As soon as the wagon is empty, horses will be unhitched and taken to a stock tank for drinks. They are left at the hitching post while I hurry into the house to grab a bit of dinner. If I want to pick another 40+ bushels in the afternoon, I won’t take time to rest but return immediately to the field and begin filling the wagon again. I will take my afternoon load to the corn crib by dark, then see that the horses are unhitched, watered, taken to their stalls, fed and unharnessed.
Evening chores must be done by lantern light and the milk taken to the cream separator. Although night has fallen, I’ll return to the wagon and again scoop my load of corn into the crib. Before going to the house, I’ll turn the horses out to pasture for the night. After finally eating my late supper, I’ll spend an hour going through mail and doing paperwork. I may scan the newspaper and before retiring to bed, we will have Bible reading and prayer. Generally, all family social life ceases until the corn is in the crib.

As I unload each wagon, I’ll continually watch for big, fat, healthy ears. Those ears are laid aside and eventually put on drying racks. Kernels shelled from those ears will be my seed for next spring’s planting.
Picking corn is time-consuming and hard work. There is always the pressure of getting it into the crib before winter ice and snows move in. My goal is to be done by Thanksgiving but weather and other necessities sometimes prohibit that from being accomplished.
Picking corn can make me feel isolated and lonely, but in many ways is satisfying and fulfilling. It becomes almost automatic for my body to do its job. However, my brain never stops thinking. It gives me time to prioritize wintertime jobs, to dream, to observe nature and to be grateful. It also gives me time to strengthen my faith in a higher being.

As fall slips into winter, I wonder if the planting, growing and harvesting labors, as well as my livestock decisions, will provide for my family in the coming months. Will I be able to hold on to the farm by paying debts?
Being a farmer is a challenge!
Four Seasons on the Farm continues in Old-School Wintering on the Farm.
Retired school principal Don McKinley grew up on a farm in southwest Iowa. In writing this series, he gratefully acknowledges the assistance of his daughter Connie Palmer. Don has created a museum of 1930s-vintage farm collectibles at his home in Quincy, Illinois. Contact him at 1336 Boy Scout Rd., Quincy, IL 62305; email: deerroad@adams.net. Visit his Facebook page at 1930s Ag Museum.