Free Corn-Farm Boy by Lois Lenski

it’s the Fourth of July, Wilma!” said Patsy.
    â€œIt’s a holiday,” said Betsy. “Have you got only one good dress?”
    Wilma did not answer. She walked away to the barn.
    Mark Hoffman disappeared for a while with Dick. They went to the cellar and came back with the two ice-cold watermelons. Dad used the big butcher knife to slice them into large hunks. Everybody ate watermelon and said how good it was. They spat the black seeds out on the ground.
    After the lunch was over, Dad and Uncle Henry stretched out on the grass to rest. Uncle Henry was about to fall asleep when he felt an itching on his nose. He reached up to brush off a fly and found a live bumble bee on the end of a string. The other end was in small Denny’s hand. Denny dropped the string and ran away quickly. Everybody laughed.
    Uncle Henry sat up abruptly and said, “Well, Mark, when are you going to get that farm?”
    Dad woke up and replied, “ What farm?”
    â€œOh, the one you’re going to move to when you leave here.”
    Dick came closer to listen. Mom and Aunt Etta were exchanging recipes over by the table.
    â€œFarms are hard to find,” said Dad in a quiet voice.
    â€œYou bet they are,” said Uncle Henry. “There’s not many lying around loose half as good as this one.”
    â€œAnd machinery costs so much,” Dad went on. “If I had in cash all the money I’ve got tied up in farm machinery, I could go out and buy a farm.”
    â€œNo doubt you could,” said Uncle Henry. “The machinery used on a farm these days costs more than the farm itself.”
    â€œThe only way you can beat it,” Dad went on, “is to buy the machinery in partnership with another farmer.”
    â€œWell—I paid half the cost of the combine,” said Uncle Henry, “and I bought a new tractor for you to use.”
    â€œThe tractor helped us out a lot this spring,” said Dad amiably. “We got our corn in good and early.”
    The women were listening now.
    â€œMark gets pretty discouraged,” Mrs. Hoffman said, “but I tell him that goes with farming. All you can do on a farm is to make enough money to put the crop back in again next year. It’s an endless circle. We never get much ahead. There are always unexpected expenses to take the little that we save.”
    â€œIt costs money to build up the soil too,” said Dad. “Too much goes back into the land, but if you don’t do it, you don’t get a crop.” He did not sound hopeful.
    Aunt Etta turned to Mom: “How can you stand it out here, Bertha?”
    â€œWhy, we like it, Etta—the kids and I,” said Mom. “‘You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl!’ After mother died, I had to stay on the farm and keep house for father. You were little and pretty then, Etta. So they sent you to the city where Aunt Annie brought you up. But I stayed in the country and I’ve never known anything else. I’d like to be out in the fields all the time now, but the housework keeps me in.”
    â€œWell,” said Dad. “The family’s got to eat! ”
    â€œI do get out and help milk,” said Mom. “The only thing I don’t like is when it’s awful hot and the cow’s tail comes switching about my head and the flies are bad. Then I wish I was in Alaska!”
    They all laughed.
    â€œBut aren’t you going to give your children any advantages?” asked Aunt Etta.
    Mom thought for a minute.
    â€œThere are plenty of advantages right here,” she said quietly. “There is always clean fresh air, rain and bright sunshine. There are plants and animals to love and care for. Living close to nature gives you something that is missing in town. I wouldn’t want to bring up my children anywhere but here.” She turned to her brother-in-law. “Your farm is not