The picture this week is a good one. Found in Aaron L. Sleyster’s book of poetry, it accompanies a poem that simply “sings” with the excitement of harvest time long, long ago.
And if you are wondering just where the picture was snapped, look at the tree covered hill in the top left corner of the photo. As you leave Preston on Highway 52 and look to your right, beyond “Corn Cob Acres,” that is the same spot. Thus, the John Anstett farm would have been located on the land now owned by the Fillmore Central Middle School!
Next week will find us visiting another gorgeous town in Fillmore County, so please, stay tuned!
“The Thrashing Machine”
by Aaron L. Sleyster, 1895
When the autumn days grow hazy
And the crickets cease to sing.
When the flies are nearly crazy,
So they bite most anything;
Then I hie me to the country,
Mid the fields of gold and green,
For I love the dreamy music
Of the humming thrash’ machine.
When the cobwebs are a flying
Through the sunny autumn air,
And the poplar leaves are lying
On the roadside everywhere,
Then I hasten to the country,
Plowed and stubbled fields between;
For I love the soothing music
Of the humming thrash’ machine.
When the harvest days are over,
And the grain is gathered in,
And the bees upon the clover
Seem to wear a sickly grin,
Then I ramble through the country,
For the landscape is serene,
And I love to hear the music
Of the humming thrash’ machine.
When the western sun has vanished
From the sleepy autumn sky,
And the thrashing hands are gathered
Round a good-sized chicken pie;
Then I mingle with the farmers,
And I somehow crowd between,
For I dearly love the music
Of the humming thrash’ machine.