Growing up on the farm one of the things I did in the summer was work the summer fallow. I started at a young age. I know I started driving tractor about a month before my eighth birthday. And I remember driving the tractor in from the field working summer fallow at lunch time one summer, walked into the house and found my Aunt Mardelle and family had arrived from California. She greeted me and asked where Dad was. I said he would be in soon. She was a bit confused and asked, “But I heard the tractor come in.” I told her that was correct, I had brought it in, and Dad was working a different field and would drive the pickup home for lunch. She was shocked, “But you’re just a kid! They let you drive a tractor.” I straighten her out with, “I’m ten years old.” That didn’t satisfy her, and she said, “Yes. I know!” When Dad came home there was a short discussion between Aunt Mardelle and Dad with him mostly convincing her that I could handle the tractor just fine.

I remember the tremendous amount of dirt and heat you had to endure. None of the tractors had cabs and the top layer of the field was dry and created a lot of dust. I remember the dust piling up so deep on my watch I would have to turn my wrist over to dump the dust off so I could read it. I remember blowing my nose and having mud come out for a day or so after finishing. You could not see the bottom of the wash basin after washing your head, hands, and arms. The water in the basin looked like a mud puddle.

Probably five or ten years after I left the farm, they stopped using summer fallow as a cycle in the crop rotation. There were new chemicals that could be used to control the weeds and by planting a crop every year the risk of an unusually heavy rain causing excessive erosion was eliminated.

I expected I would never work summer fallow again and my children would never see it or experience it either. That changed this summer.

Daughter Jaime purchased five acres of Idaho farmland to build a house on in a few years. Last year the weeds grew up and it was a mess. I discussed it with her. Ultimately, she wants grass and trees and certainly not weeds. So, this spring we rented a small tractor from Brother Doug with a rototiller on the three-point hitch and took turns driving it. The It was cold, damp, and it took us two days to grind up the weeds and hard soil. That was not the summer fallow I remembered.

It should have been done sooner, but due to our schedules we could not get out there to work it again until July 13^th. Jaime rented the tractor and rototiller again and worked for about 1.5 hours before she got a flat tire. She got it repaired but it was so old it went flat again within a very short time. Doug knew the tires were failing. They were over 25 years old and were no longer made. They had been patching them for years and now they were so rotten they wouldn’t hold a patch.

Jaime took it back to the farm and after some research by me, Doug, and others had a solution. There were tires that would fit but were slightly smaller than the original tires. As it is a four-wheel drive tractor there would be some “issues” if we didn’t take it out of four-wheel drive on hard surfaces, but it should be fine in the fields.

July 20^th it was more convenient for me to work the summer fallow. It was going to be hot. It was going to be dusty. There was no cab on the tractor. It was going to be like what I remembered. I was glad I was doing this rather than my daughter.

The next-door neighbor, a retired farmer, came out spoke with me briefly and even though I had a cooler full of water bottles, twice filled up my thermos with cold water for me. I chugged them.

Around 4:00 PM I noticed something I had not remembered. My arms sweated so profusely the dust on my arms turned to mud:

By 6:00 or so the dirt on my arms was dried out again. That was a bit odd, I thought.

It took 12 hours. I finished up just before dark and the neighbor came out again and chatted with me as I tied the tractor down on the trailer. He told me it got up to 103 degrees that day. He thought I didn’t need to know that as I was in the field. That explains the muddy arms. I don’t think I had ever worked summer fallow when it was that hot before.

By the time I got back to my little camping trailer it was nearly 10:00 PM and I was more than ready for a shower and bed. But first I had to send Barb a message and a picture.

I asked her, “Should I take a shower before coming home? Or do you love me just the way I am?”

She didn’t really answer the questions:

Oh my. I’m laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes.

Here is another picture of my arm back in the camping trailer:

August 11^th, Jaime did it all on her own. It was much cooler. I don’t think it got hotter than the mid 80’s. Good. I would rather she didn’t have to deal with some of the worst conditions I had ever experienced.

I arrived just after she had returned the tractor and rototiller:

This picture is after she changed out of her dirty clothes. She wore a long sleeve shirt that blocked the sun, a mask over her mouth and nose, and a large hat.

I never imagined any of my children would work summer fallow. She rented a trailer, loaded and tied down the tractor, drove with a trailer behind her car, drove the tractor, refueled it multiple times, and did a great job on the field work. I am very proud of her.