In the fall, the tobacco would be cut and hung in the field on baccer sticks to be transported to big baccer barns like the one falling down on my neighbor's property.
These tall airy barns (well not this airy - this one is a few winters away from being a pile of rubble) with poles crisscrossed through the beams were built specifically for curing baccer.
After curing, it would be transported to someplace like the Big Burly warehouse in Asheville to be bought.
In 2004, the Federal Tobacco Buyout bought most small farmers' tobacco quotas and marked the end of major tobacco cultivation in Western North Carolina. As much as I detest smoking, I miss the beauty of the tobacco harvest. It's a tiny bit of the culture of this area that has all but disappeared.
Do you live in a place where the actions of farmers point to the season or time of year? Is there a harvest rhythm in your life?