Through the years, I have grown to appreciate those many hands that have brought food to the table. The early settlers depended on their crops to survive.

The vegetables were grown for food to be stored and the winter wheat and hay stacked tightly and covered for the livestock feed for the winter. This would sustain these folks as they labored and lovingly attended to the harvest from the work of their own hands and the elements, God willing to send down and bless man and harvest.

Back in the 80’s it seemed that the harvester’s hands were evident in the huge pumpkins, winter squash and amazing veggies that were placed in root cellars and used for a food source during the long winter months.

This Thanksgiving, I would like to pay tribute to those who have paved the way and have been the harvester’s hands, to teach and help the rest of us to learn how to plant, raise, harvest and store the foods. Of this I give great thanks to Mark Chamberlain, Alta Spencer (my mother) who could grow anything, and it came so natural. Ferl Blackburn, Sylvia Chamberlain, Grandma Lydia, and so many others have handed down a legacy of the harvest.

Thank you. Your knowledge has blessed the rest of us with the desire and the understanding of how to plant and harvest those great gifts of the Earth.


The Harvester’s Hand

 By Myrna Cox

Small tender shoots, peek out from the earth,

Tiny and new, announcing, new birth. 

Fighting for sunlight, new life on the land,

Carefully sown, by the harvester’s hand.


Maturing young vines, nurtured with care,

Consistent hours of weeding – is there. 

Plucking and prodding, irrigating the land,

Ever so weary the harvester’s hand.


Then, overflowing baskets, laden with food,

Pumpkins, beans and cabbage, so good. 

The brilliant colors, ever so grand,

Thankfully reaped by the harvester’s hand.