In The Short Rows

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Before herbicides inundated the Southern farm lands "chopping" weeds out of the peanuts was carried out in a team effort from either the sharecropper's family or later in the late sixties and seventies by many of the "old timers" hired by the farmers who could cut through a field in no time. Many summers my dad would throw my brother and me in the fields with hoes in hand with many of the seasoned folk to tackle the unwanted vegetation.  The undisputed leader of our group was Sis Mit who would moderate the endless story telling and gossiping sessions that filled the early morning and hazy summer afternoon air. When a subject was fully exhausted, Sis Mit would lead off with a gospel hymn, and the rest would follow bellowing out some of the best singing I've ever heard. When the song was finished, another "jawing" session would commence. This was the beautiful cycle that would shorten the day for all of us. 

When a field was close to completion, enthusiasm would pick up a bit when someone would yell out the words that even signal today in agricultural areas such as Northeastern North Carolina that the end of an arduous task is near - "We're in the short rows now'!