Growing up on a farm in Kentucky I worked with the seasons. In early spring, I planted bulbs with my mom for her garden, rode the tobacco Setter with my cousins. In SUmmer, My jobs consisted of Driving the small plow tractor through the Tobacco feilds to weed in between the rows. I'd wake up to my dad calling my name from the bottom of the steps. After a few times putting up resistance to waking up before the sunrise. I'd wake, throw on a Bathing suit, and grab my walkman and head downstairs.

On days that I worked with my dad I was treated to a home cooked 'supper' (country for lunch) courtesy of my Grandmother (monnie). Supper was always delicious & was treated as the biggest meal of the day. For us working folks we needed the energy to keep us going. Monnie served up everything from country ham biscuits, casseroles of all varieties, to my favorite, Fried chicken. While younger, my uncle george, a world war II Veteran was always present at the table. He would tell stories of his travels throughout europe. When I would pry about why he never married. He'd say "I fell in love once, and after that There wasn't any point to trying again". 

 After supper, we would all pile in the living room for an afternoon siesta before returning to the fields.  

One such task was then hoe the tobacco by hand - yes with a hoe.