Gavin watched intently as the slow-moving tractor got closer and closer to us. Cliff raised the plow and opened the door to the cab. Gavin beamed when he saw that it was his Daddy in that tractor. We climbed the ladder up to the cab and he practically leaped into Cliff's lap. The warmth of the cab felt so wonderfully welcome as we pulled off our hats and coats. Cliff pointed out the plow to Gavin as he lowered it back into the soil. Gavin watched out the back window of the tractor as the plow moved through the earth, upturning the soil. The drone of the diesel engine, warmth of the cab, and gentle motion of the tractor lulled us into sleepy comfort. Gavin was perfectly content to sit in the tractor with his Dad, plowing his first field, at 11½ months old. The three of us sat together in the tractor and watched the sun disappear behind the field across the road as the very last rows of corn disappeared into the Combine. We imagined Cliff's Dad's sense of relief and accomplishment as he drove the combine down the field for the last time this year. It was a moment to remember. For us, a couple more trips down and back and Gavin and I climbed back out into the cold, and headed for home.
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