Farming III

After fertilizing the beds came the fun part. We found a Georgia stock plow, took the winged sweep off of it and put on a narrower solid sweep before chaining the whole thing behind my Uncle Kenneth's 4wheeler. As the pictures indicate, it was a bit unsteady to start with until I got the hang of it. The plow wanted to pull to the left and then to the right. Finally, we got the chain the right length and in the center of the stock after which things went more smoothly.

Believe it or not, I have plowed with a mule. Once the corn got up knee high, Dad would let me plow it out using Grandpa's mule, Frank. Even though there were tractors around and available (my uncle had one), Dad and Grandpa always used a mule. One time grandpa had a mule name Jim that was startled by a backfiring car and he took off running with the plow and my Dad still in tow. Dad actually suffered a concussion and that was the last time he plowed with the plow lines completely around his waist. Yes, I can still hear my grandpa yelling "gee" and "haw" behind the mule, particularly on family tater digging day. All the families (Dad's brothers and sisters) planted potatoes together in the same field and on a given day all the aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered together to dig taters. Actually grandpa and the plow dug up the potatoes, we just picked them up and carried them out of the field.