November Corn #2 . Corn Picker . Watercolor . 12" x 16"
Fall harvest... a little train consisting of my Oliver 550 tractor, the New Idea 323 one row corn picker and the old wagon with
some board sides to hold in the ears. It wasn't fancy, it took a while, but the job got done.
The following poem was written and sent to me by a man who understands...
"The Corn Pickers Days"
As spring and summer comes to an end,
Fall is upon us once again
The air is so cold so fresh and so clean,
The smell of burnt cedar, I keep for my dreams
Our feet and our hands are numb like our toes,
But we don't care, we wear heavy clothes
The days are numbered before the first snow,
I'll always remember the day of that fall
As we sit in the wagon and the corn starts to drop,
We hear the sound it makes, plop pity plop plop
Now the picker was loud, old and worn,
it's color all faded, rustic and torn
But it shucks the corn as best it can,
Slow and easy at the tractor's command
This could be its last hurrah, I'm afraid,
For the corn picker seen the end of its days
All the memories we have in our hearts and our minds
Will last forever, till the end of our time
I've been so lucky to have been part of this,
To share this joy of my childhood bliss.