By Sara Wolfe-Hines

Autumn was my father’s favorite time of the year. He was curious to see the fruits or the “grains” of his labor. He was curious as to which type of seed would have the highest yield and which field would produce the most bushels to the acre. Would it be the field at Dorothy’s? Would it be the field behind the lane or at the creek? As most of you know, this is how fields were and are named. It was an exciting time of year at Heritage Farm.

When my brothers and I were young, we rode in the combine with our father. Our children would eventually also ride in the combine with their grandfather. Grandpa Wolfe always had candy in the combine. However, my brothers and I were not that fortunate; we often ate our meals in the field. My mother would prepare our evening meal and

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