Ramona: It's harvest time
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
When it came to writing the Ramona news for the past couple of weeks, I was tempted to submit my column with only three words: "It's harvest time!" and I wouldn't have to say anything more, because y'all would probably know exactly what everybody was doing.
But for me, being a city girl, there were lots of mysteries surrounding harvest. So much to know, or the job wouldn't get done right. So much to watch for — like the weather — or the year's work would go down the drain.
The best part of harvest time reminds me a lot of Christmas — there's this anticipation in the air, wondering how many bushels per acre will be received from the crop this year. And there's a community focus, like there is at Christmas, where it seems that regular life is suspended for a few weeks and everyone is doing the same thing — adjusting schedules, lending a hand, watching the weather, and working all hours of the day and night.
My sister was determined to document the harvest in and around Ramona, especially since we're creating a harvest exhibit for Ramona's mini-museum. She carried her camera everywhere, moving it from our car to Tooltime Tim's truck, depending on the errand. Tim was most patient when Pat would yell out, "Stop, back up! I need a picture of that!"
But one of Pat's frustrations was getting "up close and personal" pictures of the machinery in the process of harvesting, bailing, swathing. Often, machine and drivers were way far out in the fields, and to wait for them to come back around to where we were parked on the road, just might mean 30 minutes of sitting still, and sitting still isn't my sister's long suit.
Then one day last week Rick Hanschu came into town with this gigantic piece of machinery to cut the hay in a field just north of us. The equipment seemed to rival the size of our little house. I called my sister who was at our office, "Grab your camera, come quick, Rick's right across the street, you can get your pictures up close!"
But by the time Pat reached the house, Rick was long gone to another field — the huge machine had gobbled up that tiny patch like a cookie monster swallows a cookie. We jumped in the car, hoping he'd gone to another field in town.
When Rick saw Pat and I approach in the car, he saw the camera in Pat's hand. Now we both know that Rick isn't fond of having his picture taken, so when he approached us and drove, what I later learned was a swather, within inches of the car, I felt intimidated, like a mouse just waiting for the cat to pounce.
But Pat was oblivious to Rick's antics, she just kept clicking away! She was definitely getting her "up close pictures."
When Rick emerged from the cab, we begged him to let us take more photos, explaining that we were "documenting" harvest. "Well, then, you'd better experience what it's like," he said, pointing up to the cab. "Jump up there and drive; there's two seats. You get behind the wheel, and I'll give you pointers."
I protested for a moment, but I figured if he was game enough to let us take pictures, I'd have to reciprocate. I climbed up and behind the wheel. This thing had so many buttons I felt like I was about to take flight. But hey, it had a steering wheel, and it had wheels on the ground, so how far afield could I go?
Rick provided simple instructions and I put it in gear — the lowest possible gear! "Put it in the next gear," Rick encouraged. I did as he instructed! As we crawled down the field, my confidence grew, and I even had time to ask questions.
I learned all sorts of things about the names of equipment, and the process, and how you bail different types of grasses at different times of the day, depending on how much moisture is needed, and how moisture affects the bailing process.
"This is a rather contemplative experience," I said, after having successfully driven down one side of the field. My arms had even relaxed from the tight grip on the steering wheel. I felt self-assured as we approached the first turn. Afterall, how hard can a turn be?
Thinking it would take some muscle to turn such a big piece of equipment, I torqued the wheel. Big mistake!
What a surprise, when this huge swather turned on a dime, and instead of turning west, I nearly did a 350 in the field, and suddenly I was seeing the south part of the field again. I had a sudden visual image in my mind of "doing a wheelie" in a swather!
Involuntarily I screamed and my arms shot out, and off the steering wheel. Who knows, Rick may have a black and blue mark from my arms flailing about.
Between exclamations and laughter, I finally got the swather back on track. When the next corner loomed ahead, I was preparing to stop and get out. "No, you have to take this turn," said Rick, insisting that I make one more attempt before calling it quits.
"I saw you swathing this afternoon," said Frances Buxman, when I stood in her kitchen later in the day. Oh no! I had felt some mild comfort in the fact that the evidence of my erratic driving that afternoon would soon be erased as Rick methodically swathed the rest of the field. But Frances drove by just as I was navigating my first turn.
It just proves once more, there's not much point in trying to hide anything when you live in a small town.
I wasn't the only "city kid" fascinated with harvest. BJ Riddle from Dallas, Texas, came into town June 23 to be part of the wheat harvest at the Deines family farms. "I was a farm hand," said BJ. "I got food for the workers, cleaned combine windshields, fetched gasoline, hauled wheat, and loaded seed into a drill with Terry Deines as they planted soy beans."
"He was a flunky!" said BJ's mom, in her characteristic and funny frankness. Miriam Bura Riddle, also of Texas, had been here for a few weeks visiting, when BJ arrived. "I haven't seen him," said Miriam. "He works until after midnight! I'm just washing his dirty clothes and towels every night!" she said with a laugh. "And here I thought I was past all that," she said with a grin.
BJ's wife, Phyllis, joined the party on June 27, which also happened to be her birthday. "I took a break from the hard work," said BJ, "and used the excuse that I had to pick my wife up from the airport."
The couple went to Cow Town Museum in Wichita. "It was hot and dusty just like the old west," said Phyllis. "I remember going to Cow Town when I was a kid in the 1960s," said BJ, "and they said it was supposed to look like the 1800s. I couldn't figure out what was so special about it, because to me, it looked just like Ramona!"
Now, as an adult, BJ understands about heritage and is quite an enthusiast about Kansas history. "I took a whole year out in 2000 to study Kansas. Phyllis found a textbook for me, and every Sunday evening I gathered the book, my magnifying glass and atlas, and I'd read, and then look things up. I really experienced it."
When I asked why he returns in the summer to be part of the harvest, he was quick to give two reasons. "I do it for health, to get out and breathe fresh country air for a week or two and get out and work and sweat. The other reason is to return to my roots, because I used to harvest and do farm work all summer long with my uncle Leon. It's my way of giving back to the community."
"What's it like to help harvest?" I wanted to know. "Long hours, and the heat
Last week we were honored to have Stan Finger, reporter for the Wichita Eagle, and Dave Williams, photographer, come to town for a visit. Stan's been working on an article about reviving small towns, and Ramona was included.
Stan visited with Pat and me, as well as Ramona mayor, Connie Smith. The article appeared in the Sunday edition, in the local & state section. Although Stan lives and works in Wichita, it's evident that he understands small towns — he hasn't forgotten his roots.
"The Dirt Gambler's Museum," which will be open on the Fourth of July from 4 to 8 p.m. Two exhibits will be featured: "The 3 Rs" school memorabilia from Ramona High School and Gertrude Schubert's school memorabilia from her 25 years of teaching.
Another exhibit is "Bringing in the Sheaves," which features old-time harvest photographs from various families — Bura, Schubert, Bentz, Utech.
A museum encourages community spirit and already we've had things loaned or donated. Virginia Bentz called last week, "I've got an old postcard from 1908 which features a threshing crew and a fascinating message written on the other side. Would you like it for the museum?" And Don Jolly of Marion agreed to make 28 photo matts for framing harvest pictures we've enlarged for the upcoming displays.
Last week a piece of history came to life right next door to the bank, on land owned by the Webers. Jeannie Weber has been mowing, trimming and sprucing up the property that was once the old Ramona telephone and telegraph office.
An old water pump was nestled in the trees there, and Jeannie decided to repair it, give it a coat of red paint, and make it a Ramona landmark.
I happened to walk by one day when Jeannie was testing the weld on the pump handle. "Does the pump work?" I asked. "I don't know," she replied, as she started pumping the handle vigorously. "I remember when it worked," said Jim Brunner, who happened to be watching. And while we chatted Jeannie kept on.
Suddenly the pump gushed with water, and I yelped with childish delight. "It works!" For an instant, I was back at my grandpa's house, where water pumps were just part of the scene.
Recently Jeannie added a little fence around the pump and a couple of patriotic benches under the trees so folks can enjoy this re-discovered part of Ramona on the Fourth of July.
If you come into town this week, check out the sidewalk just north of the bank — there's an inscription now visible in the cement, thanks to the efforts of Tooltime Tim who scooped away the grass that covered the sidewalk: "Archie Greer, General Store, Ramona, 1910."
Kids in Pat Wick's summer art class are working on creating 1950s cars, made out of cardboard boxes for their float depicting a 1950's drive-in movie. There's rumor that The Beatles, Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis might be making an appearance in town on Thursday, too. All this activity is bound for the big Fourth of July holiday in Ramona.
There's over $300 worth of prizes donated by companies in the area — Tampa State Bank, Cow Camp, Inc., The WIK, Agri Producers, Norma's Attic, Cousins' Corner B&B, City of Ramona, D.C. Trucking, Butch's Diner, Pizza Hut, Alco, Al's Café, and Barnes IGA. Get inspired and make a float, get on your roller skates, decorate a bike or wagon!
Uncle Haney's BBQ will be open for lunch, and the kite flying contest begins at 3 p.m., the museum open at 4 p.m., parade registration at 6 and the parade at 7 p.m. Join in the revelry of bubble gum blowing and watermelon seed spitting contests, as well as other games celebrating the '50s and '60s. Fireworks begin shortly after 9 p.m.
A couple of weeks ago two little girls were sitting patiently under the awning of the Miller Building on Main Street Ramona. They looked like two little spiders just waiting for a fly or two to enter their web. As my sister and I drove into town, they leapt into action, running toward us. We rolled down our window.
"We're selling lemonade," said Emily. "It's 50 cents a glass," said her friend Katrina. As I rummaged through my purse to find change, the girls hurried back to their lemonade stand to return with our cool beverages.
"So how many customers have you had?" I asked. The two girls began naming the five or six folks who had driven into town in the past three hours. "We made $4 for the afternoon, but we paid my mom $1 for the ingredients," said Emily triumphantly at the end of the day.
And that's the news from Ramona where any sign of commerce is celebrated, and a traffic jam is two parked cars, and a dog in the road.
