“Because Girls Can Farm Too”
This morning, while I was out combining, I noticed a vehicle driving by slowly a few times before finally pulling over and stopping. I was doing a quick repair and felt a bit uneasy—until I saw three little faces peeking out from the windows.
I walked over and asked if they needed anything. The woman explained they were visiting from Florida with their grandkids, who had never seen “farmer stuff” up close. Two boys and a girl, probably around 6 to 9 years old. The boys were bouncing with excitement, while the little girl, though sweet and curious, stayed quiet.
I noticed she kept turning her face away, and there was a scar or birthmark—something that made me self-conscious, worried I might be staring without meaning to.
The grandparents thanked me for saying hi and started to leave, but one of the boys asked, “Are you going to be going soon? We want to see what that machine does.” Their grandmother hushed him, but I offered to give them a ride in the combine.
She said, “Oh no, I’m sure you’re too busy.”
I said, “Actually, I’ve got time right now. I’m alone out here.”
The boys lit up. The girl stayed behind.
I gently asked if she wanted to come too. “No thank you,” she said. So the boys and I went for a round in the field. While riding, I asked, “Why didn’t your sister want to come?” They said, “She’s shy.” Then one of them added, “Kids pick on her about her face.”
When we got back, I asked the little girl again, “Why didn’t you want to ride?” She looked at the ground and said, “The boys always say stuff like that is just for boys.”
I smiled and said, “You know, there are girl farmers too. In fact, I had a young girl riding in this combine just yesterday. Want to give it a try?”
She glanced at her grandma, who smiled and said, “Go ahead, sweetie, if you want to.”
I asked the grandma if she knew how to record a video on her phone. She laughed, “I have grandkids—of course I do.”
I said, “Okay, when you see the yellow lights flashing, start recording.”
The girl and I got in. I turned the combine around and drove out into the field again. Then I said, “Here—you can steer.” She looked at me like I was crazy. But I convinced her.
And I said, “Not everyone gets to do this. But people in the ‘special face club’ do. It’s a secret though—don’t tell anyone.” We even pinky-swore.
That smile of hers melted my tired old heart. Might’ve been some bean dust in the cab, because my eyes started watering a bit too.
I turned on the yellow lights and let her steer us back. Her grandma filmed her “driving.” When we got out, the little girl ran to her grandma, talking a mile a minute: “Did you see me? I drove it! I got to drive!”
Her brothers were clearly a little jealous. One of them asked, “Why did you get to drive?”
And with all the sass of a little girl with a high ponytail, she stood tall, looked them straight in the eye and said:
“Because girls can farm too.”
My “allergies” kicked in again as she came running back, gave me a huge hug, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Her grandfather came over, shook my hand, and said, “I don’t know what you said to her, but that’s the biggest smile we’ve seen all vacation.”
Then they drove off… leaving me standing there, thinking.
If one of the combines hadn’t broken down yesterday, I wouldn’t have been in that field today. Would’ve been elsewhere, rushing to keep up. And I wouldn’t have met those kids.
And once again, it reminded me—everything happens for a reason.
The kids’ faces stayed with me all day. Especially hers.
Not because of her birthmark—but because of that proud, radiant smile and the confidence in her voice when she said she could farm, too.
My grandpa used to say, “Always be patient with children. You never know what they’ll remember.”
I remember how he used to let me “drive” the tractor when I was small. It made me feel unstoppable. I promised myself I’d try to pass that feeling on one day.
Maybe, just maybe—I did that today.
Or maybe… she did that for me.
30 minutes out of 24 hours. I need to do that more often.
Today was a good day—one I won’t forget.
