Harlan’s Basket of Sun — Between the tall corn rows, Harlan swung a splintery basket on his arm and tried to walk faster than the tractor’s chug-chug behind him. Read the full story →
Between the tall corn rows, Harlan swung a splintery basket on his arm and tried to walk faster than the tractor’s chug-chug behind him. He wanted to reach the hilltop before the noon whistle, because the first corn and tomatoes of the season belonged in the farmstand window while they still smelled like warm leaves and dusty sunshine. His straw hat bounced. His boots puffed little clouds from the path. Every few steps, the basket handle tapped his wrist: tick, tick, tick.
At the bend by the silo, Harlan noticed the tapping had a pattern. Tick-tick, pause. Tick-tick, pause. He laughed and answered by clicking his heels on the packed dirt. A crow clacked from the fence. The tractor coughed in time. Even the corn leaves seemed to shush-shush along, green and bright around him.
Then the basket handle flashed gold. Harlan remembered what Great-Aunt Liddy had said: “This basket carried the first share, not the last bite.” So he lifted one ear of corn high and waved. From the barn, the dairy twins waved back; from the orchard, two pickers whooped; from the road, the mail truck honked twice. Joy ran over the fields faster than any tractor. Next time you spot Harlan’s raised hand, can you hear the farm answering tick-tick, pause?