This past week was a bittersweet day, my father in law and his brother had a farm auction.  They have both retired from farming and it was time to get rid of the machinery so an auction was in order.  I know this wasn’t my birth family but I have been part of the Lundquist family for 20 years.  They are my family and I have grown to love the spring and fall hub-bub of the farm.  If it was delivering a picnic lunch to eat in the field.  If it was finding my husband in a field and we got to do a quick hug and kiss behind a tractor there was something powerful about it.  Something from the soil that sinks deep into your soul.  There is a pride aspect there that you are feeding the world.  I loved going on those cool crisp autumn days and bringing coffee and a snack to the guys working out in the fields.

That time is gone now for the Lundquist family.  The land is there but being farmed by another family.

An auction is a family and community affair.  Everyone comes to see what is for sale, to the support the family, and see what things sell for.  I didn’t make the auction I was working but I talked about the auction a lot on air, I work on the radio.  I went to the farm after work and heard all about the sale and I saw lots of smiles.  I knew it went well.

The Lundquist’s may not be farming that land anymore but their blood and life is still in that soil.  When their hands held that dirt and dug in that dirt their linage and their story went into that dirt.  There are history, stories, and tears being held in that soil.  That soil provided for many families and generations.  That black dirt holds the DNA of families that worked hard, loved God, and loved their families.