The trowel plunged into the earthen clay and worked the soil loose. The slight sound of metal scraping against stone skittered up from the hole as he worked the trowel on the crisp fall morning. He worked the trowel around the edges of the rock and popped it out of the ground. He sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, knocking his straw hat ajar.
Abraham Hair was 50 years old and had led quite a life. His mother passed away when he was 2 years old. His father abandoned him and his brother when he was 5 years old. Abraham and his brother grew up in an orphanage until he was separated from his brother, never to see him again and indentured to a spinning wheel maker who physically abused him. He worked nights to buy his freedom. He worked as a drover, driving materials over the Appalachian Mountains to the markets in Virginia. Married and buried his wife. Bought a hardscrabble farm and discovered oil. Remarried, started a family and grew his farm. He spearheaded the construction of a railroad and developed a prosperous farm. His wife recently died and left him with four girls aged 1 to 11.
Now he finds himself sitting in his yard on his hands and knees with an aching body, digging holes for daffodil bulbs. He was planting them to beautify his farm. He was planting them for his dearly departed wife; Margaret always liked the spring flowers and the splash of color that they brought to the spring. He was planting them in memory or her and to create a connection for his daughters to remind them of their mother.
Margaret Hair passed away in 1873, and Abraham passed away in 1898. The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania took Abraham’s farm years ago by eminent domain to create a hunting area and demolished all the buildings, wiping away his hard work.
However, what remains is the legacy of the farming that Abraham Hair left behind and the care and innovations that he made on the property. They rooted in the land and they rooted in his children, grandchildren and succeeding generations. It was rooted in his neighbors who lent a helping hand and even in those who just observed his practices as he farmed.
Farming has always been rooted in innovation and stewardship. America’s founding fathers understood this deeply. Thomas Jefferson famously experimented with crops, even counting peas to determine which varieties yielded best; he went so far as to smuggle seeds from Italy to improve agriculture at home. John Adams was relentless in his pursuit of better compost, immersing himself — quite literally — in the process and was known to jump straight into manure heaps to see the quality. James Madison championed soil health and crop rotation, recognizing that the land must be nurtured, not exhausted. For them, improving the land was not optional; it was a responsibility to the land and a responsibility to teach their neighbors and successive generations.
That same responsibility rests with farmers today. Agriculture is not static, and neither is the land. Continued education is essential. By seeking new knowledge and refining practices, farmers ensure they are not only sustaining their operations but enhancing the land for those who will follow.
Resources exist to support this mission. Soil and water conservation districts offer valuable services such as soil testing, grazing management guidance and erosion control strategies. Opportunities like the Eastern Ohio Grazing Council’s monthly Pasture Walks create spaces for farmers to learn from one another — sharing successes, failures, and lessons that can lead to better outcomes.
Farming is a long game. The work done today becomes the foundation for tomorrow. Even if we have to change what the generations did before, it is OK, as you are doing what they did, learning and innovating. You, in fact, are respecting their legacy more by doing so. By honoring the past, embracing innovation, and committing to stewardship, farmers can leave behind a legacy that enriches both the land and the generations who depend on it.
Every year, the legacy of Abraham Hair is remembered at the onset of spring. For on the bulldozed hunting preserve in the hills of Washington County, Pennsylvania, and in the landscaping of his third great-grandson’s home in Ohio, the daffodils that he planted that day have a remembrance and legacy bloom.
