It's winter but the farm doesn't sleep.

A heavy blanket of white covers ground that'll burst with energy when the time is right.For now, it's mostly quiet, except for a hushed, muffled sound of renewal that seems to rise from beneath a deep bed of snow.In reality, it's the echo of daily chores. And those chores sow seeds of abundance for the year ahead.In the meantime, there's much work to be done.Scott Leiby of Lewistown Valley knows that wintertime isn't a "time off."No restAs with all farmers, Leiby understands that winter's toil is essential for a good year ahead.Daily work beckons at rolling fields on the farm nestled in the hollow on Brook Lane."You have to plow open roads just to get to the buildings," says Leiby, who'll turn 60 in April."Then there's livestock. You have to feed them and bed them."Winter days on the farm can take up as much time as there are hours on the clock."Actually, wintertime is repair-machine time," he says, explaining that farm equipment needs maintenance.Leiby grew up on the family farm six miles southwest of Tamaqua.At its peak, the Leiby family holdings comprised some 500 acres in the scenic, fertile valley just south of Sharp Mountain ridge.Leiby's dad, Bertram, 83, still maintains an adjacent farm where Scott lends a hand."We have farming in our blood," says Bertram, checking on equipment that might need repairs.The Leiby land encompasses the entire area from Valley Road to winding Catawissa Road.It provides a panoramic view of the towering Blue Mountain range 7 miles to the south.For the Leibys, it's home.The Leiby family is descended from a long lineage of farmers, a rich heritage dating back to the 1800s."My grandfather Daniel used to go into Tamaqua to pick up feed from the railroad cars," Leiby says."Daniel is the one who started Leiby's Dairy. And Uncle Pierce, he was a Red Rose feed salesman."Leiby understands and appreciates the tradition.It's a continuum, a never-ending cycle that defines the Leiby family.Pausing from chores, he talks of relatives now gone. They support the farm in spirit, each an inspiration.Yes, life on the farm can be hard, he says, and there can be plenty of obstacles."Oh, there's a lot of hassle," he admits. But he wouldn't have it any other way.Cutting backLeiby scaled back with his farming activities in 1995 after a motorcycle crash.He underwent hip replacement surgery, a procedure repeated numerous times since then.Although he no longer grows corn, alfalfa and oats, Leiby acknowledges that agriculture still runs through his veins. It's a passion."We do things like custom baling. At one time we sold turkeys."The cows, well, that was yet another industry."The milk went to Guers Dairy and Lehigh Valley Dairy."Farming is his way of life.It's not a life of glamour, unless you're able to understand the beauty of the farm.Leiby doesn't have a title. And he doesn't wear fancy clothes. And farming isn't a career that'll make him an instant millionaire.Instead, he answers a different calling.It's about doing noble, basic work. It's about hard, daily chores and taking pride in an honest living.Farming is working close to the earth and appreciating the simple reward of a healthy harvest.Above all, Leiby sees farming as a tribute to heritage, a loyal salute to his ancestors and an inherent richness of lineage.Strong traditionLeiby has other talents, as well.Years ago he cultivated skills in winemaking, a hobby he turns to when a rare, spare moment emerges.The irony is he doesn't drink. He won't touch a drop."I just never bothered with alcohol," he says.The 1973 Tamaqua Area High School alumnus also is an engineer, a graduate of Schuylkill County Vocational-Technical School.And naturally, he's skilled at operating machinery.During the most fierce winter nights, he leaves his house at 2 a.m. to plow open the rural roads of Walker Township.But as soon as that job is finished, well ... he's back tending livestock.On this day, the temperature plummets below zero."The cows will need extra hay," he says, his breath turning to vapor in the bitter air.Leiby is a man of the farm."You can take the boy off the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy," Leiby says.Farming is a perpetual rite of human passage.Leiby's life is a tradition of arduous chores spent close to the earth, of taking joy in nature's bounty, recognizing the reward of a mission high.It's the timeless evolution of growth and nourishment, the foundation of our existence.Farming is a job that won't be silenced by winter snow.Today, an icy grip covers the land and locks it away from use.But ice can't freeze the human spirit. And so life on the farm goes on.Equipment gets fixed and winter tasks are tackled.On this day as always, Scott Leiby is bound to the earth, no matter how deep the snow.He answers a calling of the most fundamental nature.He realizes that farming touches all lives. Every single day.Farming is all about hard work.But more than that, it's about human survival.And nothing else ranks higher.