22. Farming

Farmer's Morning

By Britney Hallock
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 11

Early riser
catches the chicken
alarm sounds
rooster crows
stepping into
boots
that go to my
knees
open the front door
only to find
another night has gone bye
frost on the cucumbers
the pumpkins, too
slide the door
open the barn
a rush of
hay
pig
horse
hits my face
like a hot
summer wind
step by step
to each stall
drag the hose
to fill empty
buckets
chickens cluck
horses neigh
pigs snort
throw the grain to
what soon will be
dinner
the man of the coop
stands tall
chest out
feet scratching the ground
showing me to
get away
or
else
step by step
up to the
hay
I lug bales
down
one by one
to the horses
who smell the scent of hay
from a ways away
one trots with her
tail in the air
head held high
showing she's the boss
now must
milk the cow
milk leaks from her
teats
one at a time
squeeze to empty
place bucket aside
to have cereal later
click of the key
tractor roars
shovel manure
from the day
before
into the
tractor's spreader
bring to the fields
I'm going to put the
biggest pumpkin
into the fair
manure helps me
grow it
chores done
close door
knowing I'll
be back
soon

By Britney Hallock
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 11
Early riser,
catches the chicken
alarm sounds
rooster crows
stepping into
boots
that go to my
knees
open the front door
only to find
another night has gone bye
frost on the cucumbers
the pumpkins, too
slide the door
open the barn
a rush of
hay
pig
horse
hits my face
like a hot
summer wind
step by step
to each stall
drag the hose
to fill empty
buckets
chickens cluck
horses neigh
pigs snort
throw the grain to
what soon will be
dinner
the man of the coop
stands tall
chest out
feet scratching the ground
showing me to
get away
or
else
step by step
up to the
hay
I lug bails
down
one by one
to the horses
who smell the scent of hay
from a ways away
one trots with her
tail in the air
head held high
showing she's the boss
now must
milk the cow
milk leaks from her
teat
one at a time
squeeze to empty
place bucket aside
to have cereal later
click of the key
tractor roars
shovel manure
from the day
before
into the
tractor's spreader
bring to the fields
I'm going to put the
biggest pumpkin
into the fair
manure helps me
grow it
chores done
close door
knowing I'll
be back
soon

Double Lives

By Emily Fariel
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The family

They wake up as farmers
And do the morning chores
While others
Are still asleep
Then they all go off
To lead their double lives

She

Goes to school
A student
Comes home
A farmer
As she feeds the sheep

Her mother

Goes to work
A nurse
Comes home
A farmer
While she delivers a lamb

Her father

Goes to work
A teacher
Comes home
A farmer
When he milks the cows

The family

Earning enough
To get by
With their jobs
And the small profit
From the farm

But they could not make it
If not for
Their double lives

The reality
Of many small-farm owners
Today

By Samantha Day
Browns River Middle School, Grade 5

A farmer's work is never done,
When he finishes a chore,
There's always another one.

He must take care of his cattle and sheep.
And chickens and chicks
That go, "Peep! Peep! Peep!"

His horses and other animals too,
A farmer’s life isn’t easy,
His hard work is never through.

When the cattle, horses, and sheep
All go to their warm, soft beds,
And chickens rest their little heads.

And the farmer hears no more
"Peep! Peep! Peep!"
The farmer's hard work is done
And he can finally go to sleep.

Ode to Farming

By Elijah Todd Davis
Home Schooled, Grade 7

I truly like our farm
But it’s the land that gives me charm.
To look out on a field
And think of the crop it will soon yield.
The layer of snow like an ocean
Though it’s never in motion.
To think of that celestial white
It gives me such delight
A delight needed to complete the work ahead
It lifts off my back a weight like lead
To get the cows up at three o’clock
For at times they can sleep like a rock!
This delight urges me on
Until the snow has up and gone.
There is no work like farming
Though I don’t find it alarming
That you have to be real tough to work
For this is something you can’t shirk.
Nothing beats living on a farm
For as my dad often states,
“Being on a farm teaches perspective,
And perspective is something over which
You should be protective.”
I believe what he says is true
Because farms these days are few
And to many this kind of life is new.
What I am getting at here
Is as farms slowly disappear
So does the meaning of work
It is now only something to shirk
And so does the meaning of perspective
It is something over which you no longer need to be protective.
Farm life is the life for me
Though bonded to work I feel free
If a door to life is shut, I always seem to have the key
No matter what comes my way
I can always get through the day.
Farming give you something more than perspective
It gives you two other things you need in life
It gives you experience, and from that
It gives you knowledge.
I don’t know about anybody else
No matter how much I can complain
As a farmer
You have everything to gain.
I truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
And now that this poem is ended
It’s all I can do to keep more ideas at bay.

Farms, they have many things, from cows and pigs to good old farmer Brown. Farmer Brown is a good, old farmer who does everything on the farm. He milks the cows, feeds the animals, and even cleans up the dirty pig pens. Farmer Brown is overall the greatest farmer of all time, go by a farm or you read a book about farms, remember Good, Old Farmer Brown.

Farmers bring life to Vermont. Whenever people think of Vermont there is always a farmer in the background, helping a cow or making maple syrup. Farmer Brown (Sunny Brown)is always pictured out in his field on a sunnny day, mayking hay for the cows.
Farmers bring life to Vermont.

Nicaraguan Coffee

By Emma Redden
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 10

The sun sits high in the hazy sky, tanning your strong back below.
You are a farmer, a true definition of the six letter word.
You live in a home made of cinder blocks, packed mud.
You are lucky, your house is more than bound sticks.
At least concrete isn’t blown down in the winter rains.
It crumbles, but only as slowly as you do.
Your earthen walls enclose a home,
Filled with stuffed burlap sacks,
Second hand clothes, and uncomfortable beds.
At least your babies are nearby when they whimper in the night.
The outdoor bathroom is a simple relief from the
Stuffy stale air of indoors.
A black tarp surrounds a cavern in the ground
To dispose of human waste.
Over the makeshift bathroom
Stand trees, tall and proud.
They are your bread and butter,
Pan y mantequilla.
The lofty tree stands with dignity
Being sole shelter, refuge, protection
For the coffee plant below.
The bananas are still green
The coffee is still red.
Your hands and your back are still tired.
You never stop working and
Yet it still seems never to be enough.
The incredible beauty of the land
Is so harshly contrasted by the
Poverty of your life.
It is as if you were tricked,
Placed in such an idealistic landscape,
With such a demanding daily routine.
Sometimes it seems like it’s an unfair game
And sometimes it seems a gift.
Days are long
Bodies are aching
Eyes are sore
And money is so fragile
The smallest movement could
Break apart the vase of your finances.
But at least you are given the gift
Of spending those long days
In a land painted by an angelic hand.
You are a Nicaraguan farmer.

By Lizzie Armstrong
Browns River Middle School, Grade 8

My daddy leaves early
I never see him go
Even though
He just walks down the road.

He has lots of repairs to make,
But they all must wait.
First he must milk,
Then clean the filth away.
My daddy owns this land.
With his callused hands,
He has worked on every acre,
With mama as his baker.
I collect the eggs that are laid,
Over in the hutch,
Sometimes daddy lets me spread the hay,
I love him very much.
I know daddy works very hard,
Especially in May,
That is when the planting is,
So he is never in the barn.
He loves being in the field,
With the radio on.
But mama says,
I must stay in the lawn.
“Let him have his time,
This is why he lives on a farm”

My daddy comes home late
I always sit and wait
Even though
He just walks down the road.

Today, like every morning, the farmer-man milked us at 5:00 A.M, just when my teats were beginning to feel too full. We were filed into the milking barn, and hooked up to the milking machine. I was kind of scared, as I always am, but I held still and waited. Then, with a beep, a tug, and a grinding noise, the milk was sucked right out of me!

A Farmer’s Morning
Paige Stolen
Grade 5
Ferrisburgh Central School

Under the dawn’s early pink light
A farmer awakens
He stretches his arms
Rubs his eyes
Slowly hobbles
Down the stairs
Creak,
The door opens
Out steps the farmer
He pauses on the steps
Slowly, proudly looking at his farm
He sighs,
And walks toward his barn
To begin his morning work.

Farming

By Emily Weber
Ferrisburgh Central School, Grade 5

Under a maple tree
The farmer feeds the chickens
Sprinkles the seeds down like rain
Across the ground
Walks to the pig pen
Recklessly throws
The slop in the bucket
Moves on to the cows
That need milking
Squeezes, squeezes
The warm udders
Drip, drip
Into the bucket
Until they don’t drip any more
He limps back to the porch
Rests his leg on a turned over sap bucket
Leans back on his rocking chair
Nods off.

Farming

By Peter Mack
Charlotte Central School, Grade 8

It was a hot July day and we were headed to Williston to stack and bale hay for a horse farmer up there. It was scorching hot and we were already sweating just sitting in the truck. When we got there it was my job to be in the rafters because I was the shortest; it was also the hottest place in the hay mow. As we were stacking hay, my dad was baling more. No sooner had we got one wagon unloaded, but we had to unload another. They just kept coming until the dew fell and we could not bale any more. We were hot and sweating all day and it felt good when the night breeze blew and cooled us off some.

Being a farmer is very hard and doing hay is only one of the hard jobs on a farm. In the spring you have to do field work like plowing, harrowing and seeding. In the summer there is mowing, chopping and baling to do, and in the fall we have to chop corn, spread manure and plow. In the winter there is no tractor driving but lots of barn chores to do.

Lots of people say that it is a lot of work, which I guess it is, but you get used to it. It is not that bad unless, of course, you are doing hay, then it is dreadful. Some people say that farmers just sit on the tractors and do nothing. Well, that’s what it looks like we are doing, but anyone would be exhausted after driving all summer. Also many people take farmers for granted, but if you get down and think about it, a huge percent of the food and drinks you eat were grown and raised by a farmer.

They trot around the yard, their skirts fluttering back and forth. They stop and look around. A sudden rustle of leaves startles them. They run from the place they were standing and start to squawk in chorus. They seem to say "buck wheat, buck wheat!!!" It is their warning call, it travels far and can be heard quite well. But what can you expect, they are guineaus!

Farming

By Jordan Pedro
Benson Village School, Grade 8

Early we rise
From our beds so warm
To pull on work clothes
And head to the barn
Start up the milkers
Bring in the cows
Fill the bulk tank
Go home for breakfast
Fill our bellies
And head to the fields
For a long day's work
Jump in the tractor
Hitch up the mower
Head for the hay fields
Chop down rows
Of alfalfa and grass
Come through with the baler
Stack the bales in the wagon
Drive to the barn
Pull up to the hay mow
Pitch the bales on the elevator
Lift them to the mow
Stack ‘em tight and neat
Climb out of the mow
Sweat pouring off our bodies
Get a cold drink
Run to the milk house
To start evening chores
Shovel the silage
Scrape the stalls
Bottle feed calves
Distribute hay and grain
Throw down new sawdust
Close up the greenhouse
Walk back to the barn
Spray down the pit
Clean off the milkers
Wash the bulk tank
Close the gates
Wash off my boots
Shut off the lights
Jump in the truck
Go home and shower
Hit the sack
Can’t wait
To do it all over again

By Jordan Pedro