Brianna Walker

No one answers to Merle, but we’re all a little haggard this summer. The ducks usually wake us before the roosters. With the first happy, echo-less quacks, our feet grumble their way to the floor. Time for breakfast ended in July, so between the moment our eyes open and we’re dressed and out the door is usually under 10 minutes.

The days have been coming hard and fast and are each very long. Few end before headlights are needed. One is very careful about sitting down — because a two-minute break can quickly become an unexpected 15-minute nap. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it’s true — we all are missing our beds something fierce.

One hot afternoon, with sweat running down our noses and stinging our eyes, I realized we may be haggard — but if we make it through August we’ll be fine. During the next sleepless nights, and the sweat-filled days of harvest, this has become our family theme song:

If we make it through August

Everything’s gonna be alright, I know

It’s the hardest part of harvest

We work by both the sun, and the moonlight glow

If we make it through August

Got plans to be on a beach somewhere, come wintertime

Maybe even buy a boat there

If we make it through August, we’ll be fine

Got both kids pitching melons

Tho their timing’s not the greatest in the world

But Heaven knows they’ve been working hard

What’s a melon to the head, from their exhausted hurl?

I don’t mean to complain about August

It’s meant to be the happy time of year

But my two boys don’t understand

Why we can’t go camping or have pool parties here

If we make it through August

Everything’s gonna be alright, it will

It’s the most stressful time of harvest

And I shiver when I see the mounting bills

If we make it through August

Got plans to sleep for a full night through

maybe even turn the alarm off

If we make it through August, we’ll be good as new

Blew a tire stacking hay last week

And the cows need moved to pastures more green

Heaven knows we can’t squeeze much more in

… Hay, wheat, melons, corn, sheep and green beans

I don’t mean to hate August

It’s meant to be the last hurrah of summer here

But my little toes don’t understand

Why they can’t wear anything but work boots this time of year

If we make it through August

Everything’s gonna be alright, I know

It’s the most sleepless time of harvest

And we all start moving just a little bit more slow

If we make it through August

Got plans to be on a beach somewhere, come wintertime

Costa Rica or Jamaica

If we make it through August, we’ll be fine