Old Iron

Well our apple harvest is almost finished. We are still waiting for a few later varieties to ripen so we can close the book on another growing season. It is always a relief to finish the harvest. It’s like crossing the finish line in a race. And even after doing it for so many years it still feels like an accomplishment every year. So although the race isn’t quite over yet, we can see the finish line!

While on one of my many trips back to the orchard with my tractor a few weeks ago, I found a piece of history. I was driving down “the lane”, the old path that has been used for over a hundred years to travel the length of the farm. I’ve traveled this path thousands of times in my life, as did my family and the generations before me. In fact, if I mention “the lane” to my brothers or sisters or cousins they will know exactly where I am speaking of. Anyway, on this particular day I spotted an odd shape sticking up out of the dirt. I got off the tractor and pulled it loose. It  was a horseshoe, rusted and worn from years of weather. How long had it laid there? I have no idea, but it has been many years since horses have been used on this farm. It made me think about the old days. Did Grandpa come home that day only to discover that one of the plow horses had lost a shoe? And what happened then? Did he have to call the farrier to come re-shoe the horse? Sort of like fixing a flat tire on the tractor? Probably not quite as serious as that, but still another thing to deal with on a busy day of farming.

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I often come across an odd piece of iron that works it’s way to the surface. Sometimes I can recognize what it was–a bolt or something maybe. But my Dad always knew what it was. “That’s the bolt from the plowshare.” or “That bracket came from the threshing machine.” He had an intimate knowledge of how things were put together. It seems that over time, piece by piece, those old tools distributed themselves over the farm! When I was young I would proudly come home with my latest find. These days I just knock the dirt off the find and put it in the tool box, so I don’t get the aforementioned flat tire later. But this horseshoe was different. I have found a couple of them over the years, and each time it takes me back to an entirely different era. This isn’t just a bolt or a bit of broken iron. This was fashioned and attached by a craftsman, and who knows how many steps or days or months it was fastened to the horse’s hoof. And what Grandpa said when he saw that it was missing. Maybe it’s better I don’t know that 😉

It is funny how something can stop your day for even just a moment, and take you to another place and time. And it’s kind of fun and maybe a little more meaningful for me as I get older, to see something as simple as an old horseshoe. I can imagine an excited little boy a 100 years from now coming home with a piece of one of my tractors. From where “the lane” used to be. What a treasure!

Have a fruitful week!

P.S. My mom, Donna Moelker, celebrates her 93rd birthday today! I hope she has a fruitful day too! If you see her, wish her well!

Tom Moelker

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