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A ghost of my youth.


Three Foot Johnson

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About 55 years ago or more, my dad would take me with him to the fields up here in the foothills where I live now, and I'd play on this old reaper/binder while he plowed the ground all day. I always thought we were way out in the middle of nowhere and I'd never find my way home if something happened to him... we lived all of two miles away, as the crow flies. B)

Binder.jpg

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My first field work experience was shocking oats.

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