I've always enjoyed the fall we have here in Pennsylvania, the aging trees see another year pass by, their leaves now at the end of their stay. The wind carries off the golden colored cover the trees once wore with pride. It's time to get started on that fall harvest. When I first read carved pumpkin bone, I knew my love of fall would shine through this knife. In a few days I had my newest pocket companion, a #73L, I knew the lock would come in handy at work, so in the pocket it went. 

The wind swirled as the tractor passed me again, I stood up to wipe the sweat off my brow and to see the beautiful rows of freshly picked pumpkins. It was a perfect fall morning, there was no need to have a jacket on when we were working so fast, the blood was always pumping, the gentle breeze was a good friend as we kept picking. I had the #73 out of my pocket almost the whole day, with the good edge it held I had no worries of needing to sharpen it in the field. It worked as hard as I did that day, and I cut more than a few pumpkins off their stem. At the end of the day we discussed the progress made in getting the farm ready for the fall festival, I pulled my knife out and cleaned the patina stained blade, I flipped it over and there it was, Great Eastern Cutlery, Titusville, Pa. This knife is native to the ground I stand on, it has a common bound with it.

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Fast forward to deer season.

Theres a feeling in the air when it comes to hunting on the farm, theres a pride in knowing you hunt your own land. Generations have enjoyed the same first day view from the same stands. I sat there with my grandfather as I have done for years, waiting, and watching the tree line, then we get to talking on the memories made before I was around, I hear them every year, but as the years pass, I realize those stories mean more now. It’s more about enjoying each others company than it is about hunting, I know thats how it’s always been for this farm, good times shared in the early mornings, and late evenings, through rain, and snow at times, but it never gets old. The doe stepped onto the field minutes before sundown, I told my grandfather of the doe’s presence. He usually doesn’t get excited much these days, but when he heard of the news, he was as excited as a little kid, but I know he just wanted to watch his grandson get a deer on the farm. I was slow in my preparation, there was no need to rush anything. I found the doe through my scope, and my grandfathers voice echoed from behind, it took me back in time to when I shot my first deer with him, he almost cried that day, he was just  proud to be out there with me. Take your time, he told me, and I did. Soon we were standing over the old doe, and my grandfather was congratulating me on the hunt. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the #73, we went to work and soon the messy part was over, but there was something about having that pumpkin bone in my hand for this chore, I knew it would be the last big chore in a while, so I took pride in it’s job well done.

P.S.

I was writing this yesterday to share with you guys, I had my beloved #73 on the desk in front of me and I would open the blade and stare at the grey patina, it would help me remember the way I felt standing in that pumpkin patch. The last time I opened the blade the back spring broke. I E-mailed Christine Tucker, who by the way sounds like an awesome GEC employee, and I had the knife off and on it’s way to Titusville, being so close to them I know it’ll be in safe hands soon. So I’ll be anxiously awaiting it’s return.

Thanks guys