There is a euphemism for death that I heard a lot when I was a kid. They would say that someone “bought the farm” meaning that the person had died. I do not know the origins of the phrase. Because I heard it in the context of flying and aviation, I assumed that it might have had something to do with insurance. When the life insurance company paid the survivors there would be enough money to pay the mortgage. There are variations of the phrase. Sometimes people just say, “bought it,” or “bought the plot.” I suppose there are other possibilities for the origins of the phrase. We speak of sacrifice in the military as a financial transaction at times, saying that someone “paid the price,” meaning that an individual made a big sacrifice for freedom.

Regardless of the origins of the phrase, it was common language among the pilots with whom I grew up to speak of a fatal aircraft accident as someone having “bought the farm.” So the phrase has been a part of my psyche for as long as I can remember.

The term was in the back of my mind yesterday when we finally got the privilege of meeting face to face with the farmer who bought the farmland that belonged to Susan’s father in North Dakota. The land had been in the family for four generations, if you count Susan and her sisters. At one point there were at least four quarters of land owned by various members of the family. Additional land was rented and operated as a farm. There were years when they raised turkeys. There were a few dairy cows. But the main crop over the years was wheat. They grew Durham, planted in the spring and harvested for the grain to make macaroni and spaghetti. The hard red winter wheat that is the staple of bread flower is a crop that is grown a bit farther north. Some years they grew buckwheat and other crops as well.

In each generation, there were other jobs to support the fragile economy of a dryland family farm in the center of North Dakota. Susan’s grandfather began to raise his family on the farm and her father lived on the place into his teen years, but after the Second World War, they moved the house into town. Her grandfather served as a justice of the peace and held several other jobs. Her father went away to school and trained as an electrician. He worked as an electrician all of his life, but there was always a bit of the farm in him. When he reached his eighties, and moved to Rapid City, he frequently would answer “farmer” when people asked him what his work had been even though he earned his living as an electrician.

Other family members sold the land that they had inherited. Susan’s father kept his quarter for all of his life. It was deeply meaningful for him to know that he owned a quarter of farmland. When he died, however, it wasn’t practical for the three daughters, all living in different states, to continue to own the land. The renter who farmed the land is a good farmer and he was interested in buying the land. A deal was easily struck and last spring the transaction was finalized. But all of the dealings were done by phone and e-mail. We had never met the farmer face to face. So yesterday was our opportunity. Even though he had combines in the field, he took time to spend a delightful evening with us. We went to their home and visited and then took a drive around their place. The operation is diverse, growing wheat, canola and sunflowers. There is even a small plot of soybeans planted as an experiment, but it is a bit short of the moisture that is required for the beans to thrive. The quarter that was owned by Susan’s family is all sunflowers.

Sunflowers are beautiful in the field. They all face the sun as it makes its course across the sky, so when you are driving or walking the field appears green or yellow, depending on which side of the field you are traveling. The heads of the sunflowers are filled with seeds and right now the heavy yellow pollen is dusting the leaves and flying in the air everywhere. The fields buzz with bees in the afternoon warmth.

Jerry and Mary are hardworking and well-organized farmers. Mary has worked for the Post Office for years to support the family operation. Jerry’s family has been working the land for several generations and he knows the business. He is forward-looking and careful to research and keep up with the latest in modern agriculture. They are not big by the standards of North Dakota farms in this generation. They still run a family operation, hiring custom combiners to help with the harvest. Jerry spends a lot of time in the tractor working his fields. Over the years they have been willing to live with little personal comfort and few material possessions in order to pursue the life of farming. Long days have become a way of life for them.

After supper, Jerry gave me a ride over the place in his Champion Scout airplane. The Scout is an airplane suited for short takeoff and landing and equipped with large tundra tires for off airport use. Jerry is a confident and smooth pilot who made the little venture a pure joy for me. I grew up in the back seat of two-passenger airplanes, flying regularly with my father. The scout is a more modern version of the kind of airplane we flew when I was a kid.

So I got to see the farm from the air. It was a lovely evening and the air was very smooth. The Scout is a great airplane for taking pictures, as the passengers have windows on both sides. The adventure seemed to be an appropriate way to seal the deal and launch a new friendship.

So Jerry and Mary have bought the farm in the best sense of the phrase. They are living on the land and taking care of it. It feels good to know that the land that was so deeply meaningful to my father-in-law has passed on to a family that respects its heritage and works hard to care for it. We may have sold the farm, but we have gained wonderful new friends.And, as a fan of sunflowers, who plants some in his garden each year, I am delighted to see that field of yellow faces facing the sun.

By the way, the sunset was gorgeous again!

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