tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45595769519906320202024-03-13T11:18:17.812-07:00Fancy in the CountryKatie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-68609241722870612842018-11-20T17:13:00.001-08:002018-11-20T17:13:38.375-08:00Thankful for the Farmer’s Life Lessons <div style="text-align: center;">
Well, hello. </div>
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It's been awhile since I've posted a blog - over a year in fact. Life has been full with a toddler, great job, friends, family and a slew of other activities and opportunities. This time of year I am always called to post or say something as we approach Thanksgiving and the anniversary of my dad's calling to heaven. My sister, Sarah, and I keep his spirit alive by writing about him and agriculture for our hometown newspaper. Below is our article published earlier this month. We hope you enjoy and remember some of Tim's life lessons as you give thanks for your friends and family around you and all this life has to offer.</div>
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Happy Thanksgiving. </div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">November is upon us and it’s always tradition to reflect and give thanks during this month. However, for some of us it’s a difficult month. Our families are trying to finish harvest before the cold weather turns colder and the unpredictable weather sends snow too early. For us, the month is difficult because we lost our farmer, our dad, during this month. It was the day after Thanksgiving nine years ago on a crisp, fall night when the stars were shining high in the sky across our countryside. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every year during this month we reflect on his passing in some way or another. This year we have decided to share some life lessons from our farmer with you - nine of of them in fact. Trust us, we could probably share 99 life lessons but will spare you the western movie lines and quotes on the way things used to be or should be. For now, we will stick with the spoken and unspoken life lessons from the farmer for you to reflect on this month. We hope you give thanks for the people in your life, here on earth or up above, and the life lessons they taught you. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5whjlGepLEn2AV-3ITgEXefAKK7dgVHkaFto_EivhRueCG9SKqJXAG4b2kHGpTDaraKjfVlwm-lXh7HxCrInRKh87YvMe0vle5GMjje31HOPWIClyx0_AW7O7DrV38-vfbFEBTqgoXHk/s1600/Dad+in+Field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1109" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5whjlGepLEn2AV-3ITgEXefAKK7dgVHkaFto_EivhRueCG9SKqJXAG4b2kHGpTDaraKjfVlwm-lXh7HxCrInRKh87YvMe0vle5GMjje31HOPWIClyx0_AW7O7DrV38-vfbFEBTqgoXHk/s320/Dad+in+Field.jpg" width="221" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s No Burnin’ Daylight:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Dad was a believer in this phrase and lived it. He got up before the sun and didn’t rest his head until it had set behind the horizon. Neither of us were early risers so we heard this phrase every morning when he woke us up for school. It’s pretty self-explanatory though. You were given a life and time is so short, so use it - don’t burn the daylight you were given. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Work Hard, Play Hard: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a common life lesson but one that some have forgotten. If you work hard enough, you can play and enjoy life to the fullest. Dad never really told us this but again, he preached through example. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY6SMs_Tr9ajKrOzAgm4vNXyz5aF2UfVRbd0S5OH-i8fKdToEI4p48TOeaoAe8N77FfduMJKCxtij861FXwjoBjy426q-AW0zQysHs6l6pdrE0arau7ugiSxlYgJ3RzGzXbUoJnpzRtU/s1600/Dad+Peacin%2527+It+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1596" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY6SMs_Tr9ajKrOzAgm4vNXyz5aF2UfVRbd0S5OH-i8fKdToEI4p48TOeaoAe8N77FfduMJKCxtij861FXwjoBjy426q-AW0zQysHs6l6pdrE0arau7ugiSxlYgJ3RzGzXbUoJnpzRtU/s320/Dad+Peacin%2527+It+.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything is Overrated: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you heard this once from Tim Thomas, you heard it hundreds of times. This might have been his favorite phrase to use because he lived in a house full of girls who thought too much and talked a lot. It’s human nature to over analyze and to gravitate to the bright and shiny object or idea. However, living a simple life might be the highest rated attraction people seek to achieve these days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be An Example: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad wasn’t always a big talker but his actions spoke louder than words. On our way to church on a snowy Sunday, he pulled a stranger from a ditch without even a thought. When he was finished, he got back in the truck and off we went to church - no discussion really. Being a good samaritan and living a life of example doesn’t take a whole lot of words or rhetoric. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pull the Reins Back:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> When Katie was little, she was riding one of our family’s horses as dad walked alongside. The horse got spooked and took off, sprinting to a hill and the road. Dad chased behind her saying over and over, “Pull the reins back! Pull the reins back!” While at the time it was for the safety of her physical well-being, the quote is also a reminder to “slow down” for our mental well-being. This is something we constantly have to remind ourselves to do, and when we do we are thankful. When you pull the reins back, you get to be more present and notice what’s behind you, in front of you and beside you before it all passes by too quickly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Get Some Fresh Air: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If we were sitting in the living room while dad popped in to check on what was going on, you better believe he would encourage us to go outside. He would prop his arm against the door frame and lean on it like a cowboy leans on a fence and say, “Why don’t you go run some laps around the house. Get some fresh air.” Not being inclined to run around the house (especially Katie), we would just say “I’m tired.” In our older age we have realized that some fresh air does a body good - you feel better, you sleep better and you breathe better. And by gosh, you get to enjoy God’s portraits in the great outdoors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be Kind: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just be nice. It’s not hard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nap on Sundays: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In our busy lives and rushed world, it’s easy to get tired and complacent. We’ve forgotten to just a take a moment to breath and reflect. Dad never said he was going to sit in the quiet, read the Sunday paper and take a nap - he just did. God made a day of rest for a reason - utilize it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-rvBVIiRc30QuA8R0RzvwGD6b4vX7BeM5N-f3iOUs_5R2gotIDXZ1wblxMJyIdn5EozZ1LN9c4GpDxs1weMyoyabOh36Cbh4n8GakKgMxrsDKuh8yLVg92IYMQZsdqLJ23tjCLEQsYg/s1600/KT+%2526+Dad+Sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: pre;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="834" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-rvBVIiRc30QuA8R0RzvwGD6b4vX7BeM5N-f3iOUs_5R2gotIDXZ1wblxMJyIdn5EozZ1LN9c4GpDxs1weMyoyabOh36Cbh4n8GakKgMxrsDKuh8yLVg92IYMQZsdqLJ23tjCLEQsYg/s320/KT+%2526+Dad+Sleeping.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eat Oreos: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some people twisted, we dipped. Sitting with dad with a big ole glass of milk, reaching for that black and white cookie in the jar and making the perfect dip for the perfect soggy (but yet crunchy) oreo - that was a tradition to be thankful for. Sarah and dad really had a thing for the oreos. Thanks to mom for buying them and letting us eat them late at night. When we moved out, mom stopped buying oreos and put rice in the oreo jar. She soon learned that was a </span><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">big</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> mistake and heard a thing or two about it. The jar now sits empty and it’s been awhile since we’ve enjoyed this tradition around the kitchen table. Maybe this year we will eat some late night oreos after our Thanksgiving leftovers as we give thanks for our farmer and reflect on the next life lessons to share with you. </span></div>
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<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-58887152576011080852017-08-03T14:25:00.003-07:002017-08-03T14:25:34.617-07:00Stewards of the Land<div style="text-align: center;">
The article below was published by our local newspaper, <a href="http://www.therepublic.com/"><i>The Republic</i></a>, in the monthly publication, <i>Farm Indiana. </i>I am lucky to have the opportunity to write for the paper and share stories of our life on the farm. This time the author did a wonderful job capturing our family and the long tradition of farming which I hope continues for generations to come.</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Trevor and Brett Glick find seeds of opportunity in diverse operations</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">By Barney Quick</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Photos by April Knox</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Two brothers in eastern Bartholomew County embody a formula for success based on diversification, strategic savvy, respect for legacy and gratitude for opportunity. They do so on land that has been in the family name since 1854.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Brothers Trevor, 37, and Brett, 35, have four activities that comprise their operation: commercial row-crop production, a seed company, beef production, and distillery grain production. They see growth potential in each, depending on trends and economic forces in the world in general.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Each went to Columbus East High School and then earned an agricultural economics bachelor’s degree from Purdue University. As is often the case in Midwestern farm families, farming got in their blood early on and was regarded as a way of life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We feel blessed to be able to farm,” says Trevor. “It’s not the kind of profession people generally get into without coming from a family that does it. That can be done, but it’s more challenging than being born into it. We see ourselves as stewards of what’s here for the next generation.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">There are a lot more Glicks in Bartholomew County, comprising three main branches that can trace a common ancestry in Pennsylvania. The brothers have cousins nearby who also run a seed company.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We don’t really compete,” says Trevor. “That’s the charm of this area in general. The farmers have a strong sense of community. You don’t see the inclination to undercut each other that you do in some places.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Both the commercial row crops (corn, wheat, soybeans) and the seed business are driven by meeting precise needs of customers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We have opportunities to license different genetics and traits and select corn and wheat varieties for unique characteristics for the soil in southeast Indiana and northern Kentucky, which is our customer base,” says Trevor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Their corn is non-genetically modified. It’s sold through a broker. Some goes to the distiller market and some is exported. Japan and South Korea are two destinations for Glick corn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The current iteration of the seed business has its roots in Glick Seed Service, founded by the brothers’ great-grandfather, Lloyd. His son, Lynn, founded Lynn and Myron Glick Seed Co. with his son, Myron, the brothers’ father. Myron passed away in 2005, and the brothers purchased his interest and later their grandfather’s too. The acronym version, L&M Glick, is the current name.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">While consolidation in the seed industry has diminished the number of local companies, it’s been important to the Glicks to remain independent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> “We get to choose what we provide to our customers,” says Brett.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Their beef operation currently consists of feeder calves. They are born in February, weaned in September and sold when they reach the 500- to 600-pound range. The customers finish the calves for another year. The calves aren’t pure bred, but, once again, attention to genetics is a top priority.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“We breed them for a calm disposition,” says Brett. “They’re easier to manage, and they stay fleshy with less food than less calm cows would. We’ll keep a heifer with good genetics up to 15 years.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Adds Trevor, “We keep precise records on breeding, birthing, weaning and their weight when we sell them.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">For several years, they had a business called Brothers Beef that was a direct-sales operation. They ran a booth at the Saturday farmers market in downtown Columbus, but, according to Brett, it became a choice between that and “Trevor going to his kids’ soccer games.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The distilled grains component of the Glick operation came about when the Spagnuolo family, owners of Bear Wallow Distillery in Brown County, approached the brothers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“They said, ‘Hey, you know how to clean grain, and we want to work with someone locally,’” says Trevor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">That led to supplying other distillers with custom grain cleaning and a partnership with a rye importing business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Strategic planning is an ongoing part of their activity. Five years ago, they conducted a major SWOT (strengths, opportunities, weaknesses, threats) analysis. Brett maps out a budget on a monthly basis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He grants that it doesn’t come as naturally as the more hands-on aspects of what needs to be done: “I’d rather be out bush-hogging or cleaning fence rows, but you have to know your route for where you’re going. You have to take your eyes off the scenery and look down at the map.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">They play to their strengths. Brett handles the financial analysis, and Trevor does a lot of the customer relations work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Lynn can be seen strolling the premises on most days, which shouldn’t be surprising, given that the brothers’ office and the equipment storage building are across the lawn from his house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Grandpa is our parts retrieval specialist,” says Brett.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">They send him on missions to nearby equipment dealerships when something breaks down. Lynn notes that it gives him the opportunity to eat at restaurants in Seymour or Greensburg.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Brett and his wife, Katie, have one daughter, Mae. Trevor and his wife, Kelly, have three children, Sophie, Ethan and Eli. Brett says that their wives are “very supportive of our business but not directly involved.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Their mother, Marybeth, lives in a house adjacent to the farming property. After raising her children (and occasionally helping with tasks like tractor driving), she worked at Cummins, from which she retired. She now helps with 4-H projects for one of her granddaughters, the child of the brothers’ sister, Lisa.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">What is it like to live one’s entire life on one piece of ground and see the same faces daily in one’s professional life in an age when mobility is the norm for so much of society?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“There’s definitely something very valuable about being grounded,” says Brett. “We do travel and have social lives, but we hold that connection to the past in high regard. There’s a particular shovel I really like to use. It has a worn handle and probably isn’t as efficient as one I could go buy at Rural King, but I am putting history to use.”</span><br />
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-6327820472118115702017-07-20T08:00:00.002-07:002017-07-20T15:49:13.456-07:00Let Them Eat Grass<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have often wondered how everything we digest - physically, mentally and emotionally - really affects us. After my 31 years of life I think most of it impacts us in some way, and now that I have a child of my own I am more certain of it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: small;">This spring, Mae and I were enjoying an evening outside listening to the tractor hum in the distance and watching the cows as the sun set behind the farm in the distance. I sat little Miss Mae on the ground for a few photos where she smiled brightly and enjoyed the scenes and sounds around her. Then I looked away to say a little prayer of thanksgiving and for the safety of our farmer while I stared at God’s portrait in the sky. I turned back around (seriously 10 seconds later) and she was putting a handful of grass in her mouth! Now granted, I should have known that she would have found something to grab and stick in her mouth as that is pretty standard operating procedure for our little girl. My eyes widened as I said “no, no” but then realized it was just grass and I’m sure she has ingested much worse when she crawls around the kitchen floor where her dad’s boots sit after a day a long day’s work on the farm. At the moment I was a little fearful of what may come out the other end, but honestly I forgot about it an hour later and guess what – she was fine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know parents that hover – you know like a helicopter – and have pacifier wipes and try to finish their kids’ puzzles, sentences and thoughts. What happened to letting them figure it out on their own? Their little brains are trying to figure out the world and digest all these new things including how we react and what we do or don’t do for them. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mary Poppins always said “a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down” and I think she’s right but there are lots of different flavors of sugar in this life. I believe it’s okay to spoil our children to an extent and let them eat a little sweet sugar. However, I also believe we shouldn’t spoon feed it to them – they need to feed themselves. Honestly, giving and doing everything for them doesn’t help them at all. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYKryD92BvmRP8G3AQWuN5wT-KKGH3aDlucfEpBZ-e76vVyLh5UNl3lioquUqSkpXcJbQWZlM9gTK1q38D8d1h0H6g6Xk_igUNxU1UsTSGl_6bKutWyobRDq6Ey712i9tNCxpXVFRE1s/s1600/Mae+Eating+Rocks-c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYKryD92BvmRP8G3AQWuN5wT-KKGH3aDlucfEpBZ-e76vVyLh5UNl3lioquUqSkpXcJbQWZlM9gTK1q38D8d1h0H6g6Xk_igUNxU1UsTSGl_6bKutWyobRDq6Ey712i9tNCxpXVFRE1s/s400/Mae+Eating+Rocks-c.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Eating rocks or grass - whatever your little heart desires.</span></span></i><br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I’ve told my daughter that she is beautiful </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">to me</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> and loved </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">by me</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">, is amazing </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">to me</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">, seems very smart </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">to me</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> and is important </span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; text-decoration: underline;">to me</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"> – not by everyone else and not the world. If I told her the world thought she was beautiful, loved, amazing, smart and important then why would she try to develop herself and make the world a better place than how she found it? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s a hard dose of tart sugar to take – one taken with a wooden spoon that has been frayed with years of use – but one that we all need to be reminded of.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXm3SQDo0zcBCFwI8OsBsNen3hx-UMf7fZ1Q9dwpTiwzaXcQHRDgs3ZPUh5xK-eIJ9i6NtE6JNPAQX2vxerpv-pa2dJlSy7YtDhor37FmPvZj9S75bVUpgRERT2PIpm3JdS_Tm_hPGy0/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXm3SQDo0zcBCFwI8OsBsNen3hx-UMf7fZ1Q9dwpTiwzaXcQHRDgs3ZPUh5xK-eIJ9i6NtE6JNPAQX2vxerpv-pa2dJlSy7YtDhor37FmPvZj9S75bVUpgRERT2PIpm3JdS_Tm_hPGy0/s400/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">After celebrating my first Mother’s Day I have recommitted to raising a thoughtful, independent, selfless child. So let’s put down the sugar and stop telling the kids “no, no” or “you are so important”. Let’s let them finish their own thoughts or fail their research paper because they didn’t invest the time or spell check (my mother reminded me to double check my papers but didn’t do it for me). Let them eat the grass, dirt, rocks, ladybugs or small cow manure particles (don’t judge) – whatever may be on your kitchen floor – and experience what comes out the other end. They will learn and become a better decision maker and citizen of their community and the world in the future. </span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-74486756509696638552017-06-01T07:32:00.000-07:002017-06-01T07:32:11.109-07:00Hold Them & Show Them<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">With the news today and the issues in our community and country it’s no wonder that many parents go to sleep at night thinking of their children’s safety and future – some of us may even hold on too tight or too long that we don’t even make it to our own beds before we fall asleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">However, there is a lesson to be learned from letting go and letting them learn as they navigate through this world and this life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I attended a breakfast with one of our elected officials last year on the campaign trail while he was home from D.C. We were talking about differences in cities and towns around the state and the vast differences in our own communities. He said something that has stayed with me and I think of often – we built secluded neighborhoods where the houses looked similar and the families led similar lives. We stopped living next to and learning from people who are different than ourselves therefore making us more secluded from an array of diverse people, backgrounds, issues and opinions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am fully under the belief that creating deep roots for a child only helps them in developing who they are and who they will become. However, some parents don’t let their child’s roots grow beyond a seedling that may never grow to see beyond the ground they are standing on.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL1eo1qmyCgPchtG5uGhfRNmZ84zmJQ_5ka_MkYxzBOhjodTqrQWTOjgRE97kh3Sn1mM_mST1-8GaCI1CwcGU3yL_-qs8a0sfNWb9JqK4XQsJRB6PX6Y1OsqdiA5QuFxJcV6jNyb467s/s1600/IMG_2273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1272" data-original-width="1600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL1eo1qmyCgPchtG5uGhfRNmZ84zmJQ_5ka_MkYxzBOhjodTqrQWTOjgRE97kh3Sn1mM_mST1-8GaCI1CwcGU3yL_-qs8a0sfNWb9JqK4XQsJRB6PX6Y1OsqdiA5QuFxJcV6jNyb467s/s400/IMG_2273.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Creating deep roots for a child to learn about their heritage and where they come from doesn’t need to take away their ability to grow wings, learn from someone different than themselves and flourish.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I was raised to appreciate my family’s history and hard work and to always remember where I came from when I got to where I was going.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">However, I was told to learn and appreciate from others – no matter how different – while I was developing myself and working hard in my career.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I feel very fortunate that I live in a community that exposes me to different cultures and am excited to raise my daughter in a community that embraces diversity.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">While we have plans to travel with our children around the world and teach them about different cultures, we are also excited to come home to the cows and corn fields.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">People think it’s crazy when I tell them we want to travel (especially with our kids) and immerse ourselves in different cultures, but we learn so much about ourselves and others when we do.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I hope you embrace where you come from but seek to learn what else is out there beyond the ground you are standing on. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi015TN_ltVm6yGC2RezBvsE2HhpOCfY_c0qJ1ijYE5-t7k0qWw5GqLsYtUwSPg0xgptOQ6fQVBgMVUSWfYIfG8Pgq2m3L0ZHtSNuYOIP_tTMOQEqWuobJbvieuq2QrzA1en5AxHNg9hdg/s1600/IMG_1444-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi015TN_ltVm6yGC2RezBvsE2HhpOCfY_c0qJ1ijYE5-t7k0qWw5GqLsYtUwSPg0xgptOQ6fQVBgMVUSWfYIfG8Pgq2m3L0ZHtSNuYOIP_tTMOQEqWuobJbvieuq2QrzA1en5AxHNg9hdg/s320/IMG_1444-2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Our daughter may not want to travel and see the world like we do – she may be perfectly happy with her deep roots on the farm. But at least she will have been given the opportunity to make that decision and understand how others think, work and live. I would rather hold her tight while I show her the world rather than hold her tight and keep her from it. </span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-43852697673687337152017-04-20T08:48:00.000-07:002017-04-20T08:48:16.250-07:00Send Them Outside<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">We were walking through the freshly painted walls that were already soaked with that poignant smell of pigs when she learned something new about her kids and their childhood. As my sister and I watched the sows deliver piglets at the new Fair Oaks Farms Pig Adventure a few years ago, we reminisced about adventures on our family farm and with our dad. “Remember when dad made us scoop up the stalls after the baby pigs were born?” I said. Before my sister could even respond my mom exclaimed, “he made you do what?!” Since his passing she has learned a few things we did with dad that she was unaware of at the time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Even though I might have protested at the time, I’m glad he made us clean and scoop manure and more from the stalls. I’m glad he made us stand with the piglets while he gave them their vaccinations (that screaming still rings in my ears when I think about it). I’m happy he walked us through the woods to show us all the creeks and hollers so we could create our own adventures when he kicked us out of the house. I’m proud of my childhood and all the blood, sweat and tears of playing and working outside - it made me a stronger and more capable woman.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2AhAMCOxDqLzNFDr8mHdZGFK3MOyMA9dqoSACybX9eRCv_cLbWi5DkxuEs4pOKzuh4D2shtsPKIj8Iq2_BiHXIYWn4v8Zs0Wpwc3NputjMMZdWHcYg35mUStOPM2g62AZ8LGf2vqdi8/s1600/Katie+in+the+Corn+Field%252C+Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2AhAMCOxDqLzNFDr8mHdZGFK3MOyMA9dqoSACybX9eRCv_cLbWi5DkxuEs4pOKzuh4D2shtsPKIj8Iq2_BiHXIYWn4v8Zs0Wpwc3NputjMMZdWHcYg35mUStOPM2g62AZ8LGf2vqdi8/s400/Katie+in+the+Corn+Field%252C+Edited.jpg" width="258" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’ve had multiple conversations lately about how kids don’t go outside enough and they are too hooked to their screens. “When I was their age, I was outside, doing chores and working!” - that’s the standard quote these days. As a new parent I have thought a lot about this a lot. Mae is about to crawl and she is curious about everything around her. I don’t hand her the toys or her pacifier, if she wants it she can get it. When I’m in the car, I talk to her about what she is seeing through the windows and what is going on in the world around her - I am not focused on my own thoughts or phone. I’m trying to teach her, even at a young age, that it’s not all about her and what’s on the screen isn’t as important as learning about others and discovering and improving herself.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrk_vYnBjEreQcmJSH-TJzY7W3DtFvik7p_w9Rnf0n6d3VWa65uZJWnhh9EdJUTFD9bIbzRmHElSGfMzOt8tSNWVruVp2b-F7ZEL6JobczvpVL7uvAOgJDAeKjVANtgQT4zLOqUniKu9c/s1600/IMG_2008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrk_vYnBjEreQcmJSH-TJzY7W3DtFvik7p_w9Rnf0n6d3VWa65uZJWnhh9EdJUTFD9bIbzRmHElSGfMzOt8tSNWVruVp2b-F7ZEL6JobczvpVL7uvAOgJDAeKjVANtgQT4zLOqUniKu9c/s400/IMG_2008.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s funny that we get mad at our kids and the younger generation about being lazy and selfish, but didn’t we buy their phones and create their participation trophies? They don’t have the money to buy the phone and didn’t create the trophies - we did. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">So send the kids outside this spring. Take away the phone and video games you bought them and tell them to use their imagination to create their own adventures. Their moaning and groaning will only last for a short while, but their character and work ethic will be impacted for a lifetime.</span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-24098604653502330572017-03-21T08:44:00.001-07:002017-03-21T08:44:20.699-07:00Agriculture is Timeless <div style="text-align: center;">
My sister Sarah and I are proud farmer's daughters. </div>
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In honor of National Ag Day and our father who passed away in 2009 from a farming accident, we wrote an article for our hometown newspaper and dedicated books to local schools in his honor.</div>
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Please enjoy and always remember to thank a farmer.</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time is such a precious commodity to each one of us, but in our busy, bustling lives we forget about the time and the precious moments it holds. Time spent with each other in our rapidly changing lives has caused us to almost forget and remind you about this year’s National Ag Day which will be celebrated across the country on March 21.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our article last year taught you about the women in agriculture and the critical role they play. We have added one young lady to our farmer’s daughter trademark - Mae Louise, Katie’s daughter born last July. She helps check the cows and reminds us to slow down and observe how precious life is and how quickly time goes by. Sarah has spent the last several months preparing to become a farmer’s wife - another important title on the farm - and will gain the title this Saturday as we celebrate her marriage on our family farm.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKf7V4nQ-Rfo7yfbhcroDqjP_mZpe1sUGSwFMdC4Ss3CMWoU6arw3yvXGbIbxVijOXkaCA0GcB0aZX45Yg3hjkX2-jKsGg9pN3WX-PFX31oOah3HsEPwzZyUZFf9K9pxjgJhOqYJlyQi0/s1600/Mae+Checking+Cows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKf7V4nQ-Rfo7yfbhcroDqjP_mZpe1sUGSwFMdC4Ss3CMWoU6arw3yvXGbIbxVijOXkaCA0GcB0aZX45Yg3hjkX2-jKsGg9pN3WX-PFX31oOah3HsEPwzZyUZFf9K9pxjgJhOqYJlyQi0/s400/Mae+Checking+Cows.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time almost got away from us with these new life changes, but we never missed a minute with regard to our decision to honor our dad, Tim Thomas, and dedicate our lives to agriculture advocacy and literacy. This was our second year to donate agriculture books to all the elementary schools in the county so students have books about agriculture, farms, and food. And this year we donated agriculture career resources for the middle schools, so those students know about the variety of food and agriculture related jobs. We need these students to choose agriculture related careers to help develop our future food supply. They don’t have to be a farmer to be a part of agriculture. Katie had a boss that would always comment on her Farm Bureau “No Farms, No Food” bumper sticker on her desk. He would say “I eat so I’m a part of ag!” and he’s right! We all are a part of the food chain and all a part of agriculture - that is a truth that time does and will not change.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While the time has passed when most children woke before dawn to do farm chores and arrive at school with manure on their boots and dirt under their fingernails, it doesn’t mean the time has passed for children to learn about where their food comes from and who produces it. You too can encourage your children, family members and neighbors to use these resources at the schools in our county to educate themselves and become intrigued by an agriculture career. </span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-27083995978116514442017-03-01T06:33:00.000-08:002017-03-01T10:22:51.093-08:00Be Patient, Positive & Personal<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I work in an office with a bunch of suits (you know what I mean), and I’ve come to embrace their questions and curiosity. Sometimes I chuckle at their questions and sometimes I tilt my head with a questionable grin. While I am sure my facial expressions may say differently, I have learned over the years to be patient and positive with my friends and colleagues as they try to learn and understand the world of agriculture. Navigating through a conversation with someone about such a large topic that few of us live every day and all of us need every day is quite challenging. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My sister and I have been talking for weeks about how we are going to honor our father for Ag Appreciation Month in March and brainstormed some great ideas that we have already put into action. But yet I have struggled recently on how to tell my story without getting so overwhelmed with the amount of information I need to tell about life on the farm and how important agriculture is to us all. Rattling off farm facts – how many people we feed and the stats on what and how we produce – don’t suffice for me anymore. Those numbers disappear through the thin air and short attention spans of individuals living in the hustle and bustle of the 21</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; line-height: normal;"><sup>st</sup></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"> century and are disconnected from their food source. </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Instead of numbers, I use personal touches. I tell the blue suit about the calves that were born that morning and how it affected our morning routine – and after a chaotic morning, one of them died. I explain to the black suit about how the weather and various trade policies affect the corn, soybean and wheat markets every day and I hear about it every night. I tell the gray suit about my experience in 4-H and how it helped me develop life lessons that I apply to my life today – hard work, be caring, the buying and selling and losing something you have worked hard for. And then I grieve to my secretary that the gravel driveway full of rocks and mud from my farmer’s truck are ruining my high heels which have caused a horrendous hole and run in my tights before a big meeting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">People remember the importance and understand the need for agriculture when they know that it affects someone on a personal level. We don’t look each other enough in the eyes anymore because we are too busy comparing our lives to someone else’s online. So when you are patient with someone when they ask you a question, positive in your tone and personal in your response while looking in their eyes – they remember and they appreciate. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">As I finish writing this I have gotten a text from a friend in Iowa asking how many calves we’ve had and then a colleague came in to chat about the recent pig farming story he heard on NPR. Every moment of my life involves agriculture and so does yours – appreciate it. Your patience and positive attitude about your personal agriculture story will last longer than any agriculture appreciation month. </span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-25395246821114710632017-02-09T09:57:00.000-08:002017-02-09T09:57:34.408-08:00For the Love of the Farmer <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Happy early Valentine's Day from our family to yours. We </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">don't</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> really celebrate the holiday because we love and appreciate each other all year long. However, this year Mae and I are sending a few cards and dressing up because we can and she is full of love!</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Enjoy a recent article I wrote for our newspaper below and embrace your loved ones.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">Time and time again I shake my head at my dirty floors and loads of laundry and then sigh. It’s not that I feel overwhelmed with the house work or burdened by it. My headshakes are about how my younger, detailed and tidy self would have never let this fly. When we were first married I promised myself that we would be the farm house that was clean and put together – no cow manure on the floor, Carhartts washed at all times and a cute back porch. Well, I got one week into that “married to a farmer” deal and realized my household goals would never be realized.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I grew up on a farm and should have known better, but my passionate and organized spirit got the best of me for awhile. But for the love of the farm and my farmer, I gave it up. I decided that my own fancy boots weren’t going to stay clean and that was just part of it. And if we both had a pair of dirty boots that was more proof that we were lockstep in this path called life together. <u></u><u></u></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I recently read an article about how a woman always nagged her husband for not picking up after himself and forgetting to do things around the house. Then one day he was gone - he had left this earth and she couldn’t nag him any longer. As much as she hated the random socks everywhere or incomplete honey-do chores, she wasn’t going to be able to live her life with him anymore. She made a commitment to stop nagging and worrying about the little things because they weren’t important. Just like having dirty floors isn’t as important as the steps you take on them with the people that matter.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">As we approach that February holiday of love, I hope you sacrifice something for someone else. For the love of my farmer, I plan on overlooking that wretched smelling hat, holey socks, dirty floors and time with him so he can work the land he loves – we love.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I also hope you take a moment to realize the sacrifices farmers make for you – their time away from their families, physical tolls they endure and risks they take on multiple levels. For the love of the farmer and the food on your table, say thank you to the next one you see at the store, church, market or ballgame.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">This Valentine’s I hope I come home to mud and manure soaked Carhartts still attached to the boots on my dirty back porch. Just like last time, I’m going to walk right past them to focus on more important things like my family and our farm.</span><br />
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-42960404521149974722017-01-19T12:44:00.000-08:002017-01-19T12:44:47.480-08:00Curiosity and Understanding<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">We survived our first holiday season with our little girl – the first where we celebrated her life and the sparkle in her eyes when she saw the tree. According to our daughter, “Jingle Bells” is the best song ever written and she might be one of those people that listen to Christmas music year-round (which her father will be thrilled about).</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">After watching her grow and develop these past six months, her curiosity is quite entertaining. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Can you imagine how strange the world looks through a baby’s eyes? They don’t fully understand the concept of life or death, heartbreak and heartache or the good, bad and ugly of it all. They see shiny things and become entranced. They slowly start to recognize you and embrace what is familiar. But honestly, some things have to seem so strange and odd to them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I feel that way a lot when I have conversations with people about our farm. I’ve recently spent time with a lot of people who do not live in the country or have the slightest concept of what it is like living on a farm or working in agriculture. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">At a recent girls’ night, where I only knew a few of the women, my friend said my husband was a farmer and you would have thought I lived in 1950. The curious looks and number of head tilts I saw were quite entertaining. Then, while opening gifts, she told everyone that I had brought her meat from our farm, again the looks and the tilts. One of the women looked at me with a strange glare and said, “I could never raise an animal and then send it off to market I just couldn’t. And then eat it – never.” Well, I can and I do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Here’s the thing, I understand that you don’t understand and that you can’t. But why can’t you understand that I can and that I do? I don’t know how I’m surprised by it anymore, but it seems strange to me that people don’t understand that farmers and farming still exist and that people still live on farms. We are just as normal as you but we have a greater fortune than you, or so I think. We have been blessed with the opportunity to live on the land while raising a family, running a business, making a living and caring for the land for generations to come. Farming is a huge responsibility that we don’t take lightly and that others would find to be a burden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And yes, we get upset when our favorite animals pass away or go to market. But we understand that life and death, heartbreak and heartache and the good, bad and ugly of farming are part of it. I appreciate your curiosity and encourage you to have a conversation with me or another farmer. I almost feel relieved when people ask me questions because they do genuinely want to know about our farm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My daughter’s eyes sparkle when she sees the cows and she becomes entranced with their sounds and movement – I hope it stays that way. She will recognize that we care for the cattle on our farm but that they are a part of our business. She will also become familiar with the smell of cow manure and embrace it. My daughter will understand that chocolate milk doesn’t come from brown cows and all food doesn’t come from the grocery store. And at this rate, I’m guessing her first 4-H pig will be named Jingle Bells. She will be given opportunities on our farm and off the farm, and whichever path she chooses I hope she stays curious and seeks to understand others while educating them about our way of life on the farm. In the new year, I hope you genuinely become curious and understanding of what you don’t know and then maybe the world won’t look so strange. </span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-987921720700456692016-12-23T12:22:00.001-08:002016-12-23T12:22:51.034-08:00Live in the Moment <div style="text-align: center;">
I always preach about slowing down and embracing each moment.<br />
And I've been acutely aware of that advice this year as our little girl has gone from being a tiny newborn to a smiling, little baby with thick cheeks and the cutest fat baby legs.<br />
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While I am still busy and can't quite understand the concept of saying "no", I have<br />
learned to really slow down and spend time doing nothing at home while I read to my<br />
daughter or stare at her (as creepy as it may sound).<br />
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I'm not going to apologize for not writing more blogs and taking time to stare at my computer, I have her journal to write in and her precious face to stare at. I'm not going to apologize for not sharing more because I have a lot to share with my daughter - even though she just stares at me and smiles, she already understands I want to be a part of her life and share this amazing journey with her.<br />
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With a year full of firsts and another one around the corner, I pray that time slows down.</div>
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This was the first year I spent Thanksgiving without my mom and the first I spent with my daughter.</div>
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As you may well know, Thanksgiving is hard for our family because we lost my dad over the holiday 7 years ago. Funny how the holiday of thanks can remind you of the blessings that once were and still remain. And how the time can move so quickly.</div>
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Last month was the first time Mae rode the clouds and got a little closer to heaven.</div>
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She loved it and is ready to play Mary Poppins in the school play.</div>
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Not only did we celebrate Mae's first few months on this earth, but we celebrated Indiana's Bicentennial! She has been a great state for 200 years and our families have been a part of her heritage for a good portion of that time. We are excited to see where the next 200 lead us and to share the rich history of her ancestors with our daughter. </div>
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Then we saw Santa and smiled and laughed a lot. </div>
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Mae loves to read and enjoyed reading about Katie the Candy Cane Fairy!</div>
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I hope she grows up to think I have magical powers.....and not to mess with me.</div>
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I don't apologize for my lack of engagement on my blog or social media. While I appreciate and am truly touched when people comment about my writing, the blog is not what my moments are about. Sometimes I think we get too wrapped up in our moments online that we forget about the moments we are in.<br />
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My moments are about who's beside me and who is in my arms. <br />
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I pray that we all celebrate this holiday season and are thankful for our blessings and our Savior.<br />
Instead of opening up presents and snapping pictures of tangible things that the kids will forget about in a few months, open a book and read a story, The Story.<br />
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I pray that you are present this holiday season and live in the moment with the people you love.<br />
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Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and your family!</div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-7995227691099831752016-10-28T07:42:00.003-07:002016-10-28T07:42:35.331-07:00When They Go<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">This farm wife and working mom has been getting used to our new schedule and evenings without her husband. I rush all day long to get things marked off my to do list, and when I get home I just want to spend time feeding my child, reading to her and playing. She is growing up too fast so my spare moments are spent with her, not the blog. So the post below is my recent <i>Farm Indiana</i> article and hopefully when the farmer is finished with harvest I'll have a little more time to write. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">They go to the farm on
a daily basis not ever really knowing what that day may bring. And we as farm wives see them off never
knowing when they will come home.
Farmers leave at all hours of the day and night for various
reasons. I’m currently experiencing
early morning goodbyes and the late night hellos, and sometimes a repeat of the
same greetings late at night when he runs to check on the grain dryer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Miss Mae watching harvest from our backyard.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">However, sometimes when
they say goodbye they don’t return. My
mom experienced that the day we lost my dad on the farm. And I hope and pray that I never have to
endure that heartache as she has. I try
to be fully bright-eyed and busy tailed when he leaves in the morning to kiss
and say goodbye. And then I try to be at
home waiting his return with a smile and sometimes a hot meal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">When we were first
married, he left in the morning a few times without saying goodbye or giving me
a morning kiss and I was devastated. Let’s be honest, I was probably a little more
dramatic than I needed to be but I could not start my day without that goodbye
or that kiss. In the back of my mind, I
am always prepared for it to be our last.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Before the farmer goes
to the farm to work the land that he loves and the animals that he cares for,
he has to prepare for his day. First up,
a check of the weather—always. Next, he
makes some morning coffee and maybe some eggs if there is time because you
know, there is no burning daylight so a few extra minutes of sleep might have
cost him his breakfast. And he now knows
he can’t skip the last portion of his morning routine—the goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Before the farmer goes
to the farm to collect dirt and cow manure that will end up in my washer, I say
a prayer that he and all the farmers will be safe as they work so passionately
in the early morning fog until well after sunset. I embrace my dirty kitchen floors and loads
of never ending laundry because if the floors were clean and the laundry was
done, he would have only left and never come home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Sometimes when the
farmer leaves now, it’s to take a walk with our baby girl to introduce her to
the cows and watch the Indiana sunsets (and to give me a moment of peace and
quiet). And while they are gone, I pray
that she learns about the goodbyes and hellos of life and that sometimes they
are really hard but they make us stronger and more prepared for the next
greetings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna03sfGWNawz8PBtbTwvYqqj822fYyIGvBJektkqpnb4EjdCmxBJPnyRVRFNGXY9nZfPweDjZAaWGyCyxtsblSly9BBxMjkATbIpzY2OGkUkx6Mt2sEzleJ5NjE7usIopP67X9dhNG1M/s1600/Brett+%2526+Mae+on+a+Walk+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhna03sfGWNawz8PBtbTwvYqqj822fYyIGvBJektkqpnb4EjdCmxBJPnyRVRFNGXY9nZfPweDjZAaWGyCyxtsblSly9BBxMjkATbIpzY2OGkUkx6Mt2sEzleJ5NjE7usIopP67X9dhNG1M/s640/Brett+%2526+Mae+on+a+Walk+.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">No matter how the
farmers may leave us or when God decides to take them, when they go there is always
a lesson to be learned. Dad always said,
“There’s no burnin’ daylight”. And my
farmer always says, “It will be okay”.
So I guess I’ll survive the early morning goodbyes and pray for the late
night hellos. I know that he's always working through the daylight and he will be
okay and come home at night well after God's paintings have faded into the dark sky to become stars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22gWkbAy11fx2PxBgv6xW5Q78-2lIf6Be2uqDi8-_GcIa-uIqUs1lJ_gVcSlBM08Ec7D_8cgp35v2z5eWjteItQ8o9PIAzss2U-PmLd6WKTpWrzGoP5F4HKaK_LAvkTwGxW_Stv-U81k/s1600/Sunset+from+the+Upstairs+Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22gWkbAy11fx2PxBgv6xW5Q78-2lIf6Be2uqDi8-_GcIa-uIqUs1lJ_gVcSlBM08Ec7D_8cgp35v2z5eWjteItQ8o9PIAzss2U-PmLd6WKTpWrzGoP5F4HKaK_LAvkTwGxW_Stv-U81k/s640/Sunset+from+the+Upstairs+Room.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The view from our upstairs window--golden corn and God's painting. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Don't judge my dirty window!)</i></span></span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-37574227971700961532016-09-29T07:15:00.002-07:002016-09-29T07:15:19.626-07:00The Moments In-Between<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I've been taking my last few weeks, days and moments before going back to work today to spend time with our little girl. To soak up every moment because she grows every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As my mother-in-law says, "my mom always said when you lay a baby down they grow." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And oh how this is true!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So here is my recent article in our local newspaper <i>Farm Indiana</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I'll write again soon but I've been enjoying the moments in-between her growth spurts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I woke-up on a recent
morning to the sounds of the evening crickets and the morning birds. I had never really heard that sound before,
the sound in-between the night and the morning, probably because I have always
been asleep at that time. However, with
the arrival of our first born, the moments I found myself in lately are
in-between a lot of different things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I was little, we
played in the woods a lot and made up various names for the rolling hills and
valleys behind my childhood home. We had
to set-up different forts just in case we got too tired and had to rest along
our treks on our various adventures. The
life of a child in-between reality and imagination is so charming, yet we
forget to let them have those moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xJVMIRJWVHwB5b656G1qMSLKafDc1JkjE8fYihWCm9mHsEwsDvRYJX-yok5B3OAorGwTM16hkrfKvl1uCNnmNOdgXZfox6-OBhmL4Fxli6tYIDf7FpDB76Q9THUjG5lBEyXyF8TGVig/s1600/Corn+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xJVMIRJWVHwB5b656G1qMSLKafDc1JkjE8fYihWCm9mHsEwsDvRYJX-yok5B3OAorGwTM16hkrfKvl1uCNnmNOdgXZfox6-OBhmL4Fxli6tYIDf7FpDB76Q9THUjG5lBEyXyF8TGVig/s400/Corn+2014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I live a life in the
country but work in the city and the time I found myself in-between the two
places is the time I take to reflect on my passion for both where I live and
what I do. It’s a time where I try to
remember where I came from while I’m trying to get to where I’m going. However, many times I am so rushed that I
forget the moments in-between the two places are treasured. I need to remember when my wheels are rubbing
the pavement, my thoughts are only my own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And now that we have
our first little baby, I am really trying to slow down because the moments I
find myself in-between are too precious to let go and forget. I’ve found motherhood to be a lot more
calming than I realized because it has taught me to slow down, relax and just
be. I have to sit down for a good
portion of the day to feed my child and after I do that I just want to watch
her. Her eyelashes grow longer overnight
and each time I pick her up I think her legs are chubbier than before. The nursing, trying to eat with my non-dominant
hand, changing diapers, keeping us with the daily news and communication with
friends and taking care of myself is exhausting, but the moments in-between are
worth every minute of it. She changes
daily and if I don’t slow down and pay attention, the moments will be lost
forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a farmer’s wife, I
live in-between seasons and each one brings its challenges and its
thrills. From the outside, it may seem
like the planting and harvest are the only seasons a farmer works. And yet it’s
in-between those moments that farmers take time to reflect on the past and work
towards the future along with doing all the other chores you may not see. It’s a time they may stop rubbing the
pavement and dirt to have a little adventure and slow down to reflect and care
for themselves and their land for the next generation of young farmers. And during those moments, I bet they still
wake-up to hear the crickets and the birds.
I hope you take a moment to hear them too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-51492479437238246742016-09-09T04:38:00.000-07:002016-09-09T04:56:17.928-07:00A Good First Time Heifer & Her Baby<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just like that, we had a baby and now she's two months old.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not quite sure why time passes by so quickly when you are trying to embrace the most precious of moments, but it does. Our little Glick Seed has gone from a tiny baby resting in our arms, to a wiggle worm with so much personality already that I'm unsure how my husband is going to survive us both.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0GP4hk0YoDyaticIjzGLq6HlVL899gvKBsd275h11yXptsA90QouWkCfFB7Nirymc6xT30yc3I00R_Y0ytITxy_8p5ANolnNjnwN90knW1D_BYFN_L7L6qJo5wIVVwugoEVnc_T9mOeE/s1600/Mae_Newborn-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0GP4hk0YoDyaticIjzGLq6HlVL899gvKBsd275h11yXptsA90QouWkCfFB7Nirymc6xT30yc3I00R_Y0ytITxy_8p5ANolnNjnwN90knW1D_BYFN_L7L6qJo5wIVVwugoEVnc_T9mOeE/s400/Mae_Newborn-36.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I expressed to my husband recently that I thought I was a good momma cow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(Yes, this is how I think in terms of motherhood because of growing up on a farm.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">His reply started with, "No...." which I thought he would say something about not being a cow, but no, like any good farmer he went back to the farm reference.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He finished by saying, ".....honey, you are what we call a good first time heifer."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Oh.......thanks honey, I really do take that as a compliment."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I do, a good momma cow is well respected by her herd and the farmer.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3o70ePddlWJdyoZbzm6ji7XT2f6klVDWs_aYi1m5grEaeMWm2XzCzVP2FzGqJGqmK6f82IacEAngzLoLN9EKwAFvY6IqOR8NV2W7cJXaiC0WIPnF6L-NdYQ4tui5GpkNJd2guOAIUnY/s1600/Mae_Newborn-94.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3o70ePddlWJdyoZbzm6ji7XT2f6klVDWs_aYi1m5grEaeMWm2XzCzVP2FzGqJGqmK6f82IacEAngzLoLN9EKwAFvY6IqOR8NV2W7cJXaiC0WIPnF6L-NdYQ4tui5GpkNJd2guOAIUnY/s640/Mae_Newborn-94.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I really have to give thanks to my husband for the nice compliment only a farmer's wife would understand and for his patience. I don't have to thank him for his help because he should be doing that anyway, I mean she is half his.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We respect each other enough to know we both have to chip in and make sacrifices for each other and her. And when I do thank him for something random, his response is always, "I'm happy to do it". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I know he truly means it.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">While I will be raising my little girl to love fancy things.....</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISjNaaakWZOnWUaNn4I7faLrK4D6iFJ_9EQlDLX6Tkpcbe-zLXt81BdVXTVk6HvPiT3Vsy6M4anibSSmsJz4f_nSryOAgcMomWVjfI_PWon8_BH0M2uAJ7mc-7g62JP2UEADirNBS0NE/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISjNaaakWZOnWUaNn4I7faLrK4D6iFJ_9EQlDLX6Tkpcbe-zLXt81BdVXTVk6HvPiT3Vsy6M4anibSSmsJz4f_nSryOAgcMomWVjfI_PWon8_BH0M2uAJ7mc-7g62JP2UEADirNBS0NE/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">.....he will be teaching her about the family business and helping her get her hands dirty.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvVM0GkEH8nF0Pes9RxliBnumFfyeQPMR5WS42ses6GO5V0Br0NnDA4gkpERp1xhh8P2LNyuLhSM4y0Kyu_gTmRnv_RIZZ46i9rrYc7PTXXK3VUO9dYUJCow6DqelVHfeggXxommktHc/s1600/L%2526M+Glick+Seed+Matching.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvVM0GkEH8nF0Pes9RxliBnumFfyeQPMR5WS42ses6GO5V0Br0NnDA4gkpERp1xhh8P2LNyuLhSM4y0Kyu_gTmRnv_RIZZ46i9rrYc7PTXXK3VUO9dYUJCow6DqelVHfeggXxommktHc/s400/L%2526M+Glick+Seed+Matching.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And we both will teach her where she came from and where she can go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07jHToE1nYWFKs9badAlxsKMr_hqecK4nCzXnKl1kE0eThMiKliPYeY5mnSVagF-EQjnZMX2JvH5MsZ0rMLDsPucVFdBHCsbYRAHTBScwyOgFSRgx_6Jsgcbi4DwH-A8ommKmM2PQ19M/s1600/IMG_2709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07jHToE1nYWFKs9badAlxsKMr_hqecK4nCzXnKl1kE0eThMiKliPYeY5mnSVagF-EQjnZMX2JvH5MsZ0rMLDsPucVFdBHCsbYRAHTBScwyOgFSRgx_6Jsgcbi4DwH-A8ommKmM2PQ19M/s400/IMG_2709.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And now that the corn is turning from it's bright summer green to the harvest brown, the little Glick Girl is changing from a tiny baby to a chubby, smiley baby with lots of personality and curiosity. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNhR41z2wKHlL_j9AFdk1sd0DCX2kwXsHq0g61-g9zg5Fey0Z83lijH_u4vL0ckTiT8c9RaKJjPv7F003oAKJoVZWg1KfQa41Qe_agEeG0kEGkpomTAz-RIrFsXXe6VVbbggRSeN0bRY/s1600/IMG_2495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNhR41z2wKHlL_j9AFdk1sd0DCX2kwXsHq0g61-g9zg5Fey0Z83lijH_u4vL0ckTiT8c9RaKJjPv7F003oAKJoVZWg1KfQa41Qe_agEeG0kEGkpomTAz-RIrFsXXe6VVbbggRSeN0bRY/s400/IMG_2495.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8958c6PRdGjBI1u_NOw8V2UQzh8u7P60EDOoupLjmrNoeKZAe4tg9Ce0Yci_eZOcUw2EA3crxUah_BTdTHzP6xBmn9Gf0Vte-ugFVbq7sz3VDqgO1RiDWfnbHNpB-ala-JWQ_UylQks/s1600/IMG_2775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8958c6PRdGjBI1u_NOw8V2UQzh8u7P60EDOoupLjmrNoeKZAe4tg9Ce0Yci_eZOcUw2EA3crxUah_BTdTHzP6xBmn9Gf0Vte-ugFVbq7sz3VDqgO1RiDWfnbHNpB-ala-JWQ_UylQks/s400/IMG_2775.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So as the time flies and the seasons change, we will continue to cherish and enjoy the precious moments with our little Miss Mae and those well respected cows.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfr3IT-5tBfc9ZQSoCZkrmJi6HqNiKZdTx7-bAnVkOKKMb5-373pK_ZGlRSt4zIpWGv-vLpJDhob41icAM3NQaG4AVYQrNss20HE8bHWfNiYaS9McMKSAV5qxTCMmXef3ml_ZSh91CHw/s1600/Mae_Newborn-72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfr3IT-5tBfc9ZQSoCZkrmJi6HqNiKZdTx7-bAnVkOKKMb5-373pK_ZGlRSt4zIpWGv-vLpJDhob41icAM3NQaG4AVYQrNss20HE8bHWfNiYaS9McMKSAV5qxTCMmXef3ml_ZSh91CHw/s640/Mae_Newborn-72.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-58565265927866055082016-08-11T09:01:00.000-07:002016-08-11T09:01:33.732-07:00Why Are We Going This Way?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I really should know better than to ask that
question. Growing up with a dad who was
a farmer and now being married to one, you just know that sometimes you are
along for the ride. And sometimes they
are the best rides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">We were coming home recently from the lake and he
turned a different way, well a new way that I had never been. “Why are we going this way?” I asked. And I got the classic farmer answer, “I want
to check some fields.” “Great,” I
thought, another road for me to learn in this county that I’m still getting
used to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KXHKRuWEYWKgCfIdVhEVpG0QLYIUFCERJzhupM7j6wcPQaFv5QjAUZxZqQpTr-aD6Lf8RFQN7oK13Vziw6kWI6tm_1ngJGGe2rXMr8X3fQxqcDZeX7PUnMuqs-1R5oIgskIDoM_EF_I/s1600/Soybeans+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KXHKRuWEYWKgCfIdVhEVpG0QLYIUFCERJzhupM7j6wcPQaFv5QjAUZxZqQpTr-aD6Lf8RFQN7oK13Vziw6kWI6tm_1ngJGGe2rXMr8X3fQxqcDZeX7PUnMuqs-1R5oIgskIDoM_EF_I/s640/Soybeans+2014.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Much of what you learn growing up on a farm are from
things you observe.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Growing up, I would
patiently wait in the back seat or next to my dad in the truck.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One thing I learned pretty quickly is that he
could drive on the road without actually watching the road!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was as if he had eyes on the sides of his
head as he looked out the windows to check each row of corn and soybeans
growing in the fields.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I first
started to notice this, I was scared.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But then I realize that it’s just part of it, we were safe, it is just
part of the farmer way of life and something they do.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMATiQnPcP8eTe0NhzQGy6EIPK3ZKKH2n_TlcMu4guamhNKB8Y94YtUvsCvdWzVi7tZZYjajpURhrA1ZMbVzBn1mp2rAoCJH88cy_o-eGrnYB4AeWfoT_sQizMDtKDZ94KhXjU1HKqb0/s1600/Corn+Edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMATiQnPcP8eTe0NhzQGy6EIPK3ZKKH2n_TlcMu4guamhNKB8Y94YtUvsCvdWzVi7tZZYjajpURhrA1ZMbVzBn1mp2rAoCJH88cy_o-eGrnYB4AeWfoT_sQizMDtKDZ94KhXjU1HKqb0/s640/Corn+Edited.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The second thing I learned was not to ask where we
were going. He was going to get us home
or to our destination even if it took a little longer which I learned was okay. We got to explore new ways of getting somewhere;
we learned new things along the way about the history of our county or the
family that once farmed the land. Our
parents never let us have a TV in the car and we rarely read or played games,
we looked out the window at the fields or roads or towns along our drive and
explored the world on a different path each time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLngjwfuftrg4uy69oK7pw2bETaLJQXiyirX0G60rOUvu3VIUHZPKLrk0zocSIq6aO4vRgvIyPOdInUsNGK1jaWFSCo5DZFYlkbAtMGr8_3Ak3BXEG9fDEJqrRVidQTifJuoGYfIKmTPQ/s1600/Lindsay%2527s+Boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLngjwfuftrg4uy69oK7pw2bETaLJQXiyirX0G60rOUvu3VIUHZPKLrk0zocSIq6aO4vRgvIyPOdInUsNGK1jaWFSCo5DZFYlkbAtMGr8_3Ak3BXEG9fDEJqrRVidQTifJuoGYfIKmTPQ/s640/Lindsay%2527s+Boots.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The third lesson I learned from these unexpected
drives was to listen.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Once you get farmers
in their element or on a topic they know, you learn a lot.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I basically learned much of what I know about
farming, the crops we grow, weed and pest control, the markets, the weather and
the land I love by listening to my dad on these drives.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And now I’ve continued that tradition with my
husband.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I’m not one to question God about the way things are
going or the path he has set forth before me.
So I’m not sure why I asked the farmer because I am certain he was
taking us along a path that would lead us to where we were going, we would get
there safely and </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I would even learn a thing or two along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Rd0B-HxojR0kELBF6a8ZvL-4O2yBsbpIM_xRlhV5k4glR4n9ZZwVofHSZntLeL1wb3wlkcbLjjZm0EYk292W-6ywg0-enCsDKMOXCTVxfNHz3C-7ZPMSzobuZoWBmzDfbDPp6_GZH-0/s1600/Wheat+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Rd0B-HxojR0kELBF6a8ZvL-4O2yBsbpIM_xRlhV5k4glR4n9ZZwVofHSZntLeL1wb3wlkcbLjjZm0EYk292W-6ywg0-enCsDKMOXCTVxfNHz3C-7ZPMSzobuZoWBmzDfbDPp6_GZH-0/s640/Wheat+2016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">With today’s ever present questions of “why this
way?” and “why that way?” about so many topics and issues, I feel pretty lucky
to know why I am going a certain way and down a certain path. And even if I don’t, I know everything will
be okay when we get there. I hope you
have that confidence or luck and if not, maybe you should take a drive with a
farmer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-50451870465390111912016-07-28T08:50:00.000-07:002016-07-28T08:50:40.748-07:00Commit to the Clover<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s a long standing tradition, one that has been
around for over 100 years. It’s about
hard work, commitment, education, responsibility and development. For many people it’s about “summer homework”
and hot, summer days spent committed to something other than yourself culminating
in a week of fun with friends you may only see once a year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am sure you have grasped that I’m talking about
4-H and imagining the green clover. It’s
a long standing tradition that empowers and teaches our young people and reminds
us alumni of the power in our head, heart, hands and health.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I will admit, just like most people, that I hated
homework so filling out my 4-H project books wasn’t my idea of fun. And the hot summer days really got to me
especially working with the pigs. We
shaved our pigs one summer so they would look nice, and I will never, ever
forget that day, what it felt like and what I looked like in the end. And fair week, while it seemed like hell for
my parents, was a mini-camp or vacation with my friends from around the county
I only saw once a year with many great memories I think of often. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd9AKyKiKdYi17Tp99Z1ij3B3CEJzJcXDWJ49Jv9GPA8bpwA-cYO9d_xSyfGcpGIYNRZ6OdLZi9VRA7I0htZOFOk8DqmJiCtmvDemNYmHoZfanGAqm4kPEtru7SfSOAhjEbq8JjV7ZQQ/s1600/Katie+4-H+photo+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd9AKyKiKdYi17Tp99Z1ij3B3CEJzJcXDWJ49Jv9GPA8bpwA-cYO9d_xSyfGcpGIYNRZ6OdLZi9VRA7I0htZOFOk8DqmJiCtmvDemNYmHoZfanGAqm4kPEtru7SfSOAhjEbq8JjV7ZQQ/s400/Katie+4-H+photo+.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">One of the great things about 4-H is that it’s not
just for the country kids.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s for all
kids of all kinds to be a part of something special, something greater than themselves,
which has been a part of people’s lives for three different centuries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I think about what would happen if more of
our children experienced 4-H, and had the summer homework, the commitment
needed to get through the summer day and had the lifelong friendships and
network from just one week a year. What
would happen if every child of ours was able to learn, recite by heart and
commit to the 4-H pledge for a lifetime? </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I pledge my head to clearer thinking,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My heart to greater loyalty,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My hands to larger service,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">and my health to better living,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">for my club, my community, my country, and my world.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHSgJcgfpSFhTjOK37xAWC7fqaH6tnQf47U06kWmaNhMSpdZhkoaW9cJbCRXNT3MBpnIKt1aXq5Ct01fYCq6OkvGe1zBzMu1N_ky7_YHZpgJVd2mcc8mxx85gn2uqQaF58nFnep44Lbk/s1600/Clover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHSgJcgfpSFhTjOK37xAWC7fqaH6tnQf47U06kWmaNhMSpdZhkoaW9cJbCRXNT3MBpnIKt1aXq5Ct01fYCq6OkvGe1zBzMu1N_ky7_YHZpgJVd2mcc8mxx85gn2uqQaF58nFnep44Lbk/s1600/Clover.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I personally think we would be a better community,
country and world.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So as we approach
fair week in our community, I am recommitting myself to the 4-H pledge.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And as a 10 year 4-H alumnae, I want my
daughter to experience a long-standing tradition and commit herself to positive
change through her head, heart, hands and health.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I hope you will do the same for the program,
yourself, the children and our community. If you never experienced 4-H, it
doesn’t mean you can’t support the program with you contributions or
skills. You can and you should, just as
the alumni, encourage our young people to be a part of a tradition that will
stay with them for a lifetime. When I
see the 80 and 90 year old men and women still visit the fair because of their
commitment to the 4-H program and to our youth, I can only imagine the memories
they have and their reasons for still showing up. With their aging heads and hearts, their worn
and callused hands and their dwindling health, they are still committed to the
clover just as we all should be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-37939898152004463212016-07-05T09:18:00.000-07:002016-07-05T09:18:00.851-07:00What Have We Done?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It's a question we ask ourselves regularly these days.</div>
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"What have we done?"</div>
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"Why did we do this?"</div>
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"What are we going to do with her?"</div>
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I guess expecting your first kid when you both have been single and independent for so long will entice these types of questions. And it all has seemed to go by so fast but yet soooo slow at times.</div>
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I've learned you can't really prepare fully for having a kid so I guess we are ready more now than we ever will be.</div>
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We already grow grain, have planted a few trees here and there and are now ready to grow people.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVItdSotMgwohGsI6-j-3oKrYxePJ1fdplh7okzzRxJB4ICzFaSKa3Q2x-5_UgZgEV_1PXMpEdw-4sIoEXNEUyS13U0YdoChkxiP_AjPmYZI2Jow0DZjqz_l5Mh-gAvSboyqALVWf_ZVI/s1600/Prosperity+Quote+from+Shower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVItdSotMgwohGsI6-j-3oKrYxePJ1fdplh7okzzRxJB4ICzFaSKa3Q2x-5_UgZgEV_1PXMpEdw-4sIoEXNEUyS13U0YdoChkxiP_AjPmYZI2Jow0DZjqz_l5Mh-gAvSboyqALVWf_ZVI/s640/Prosperity+Quote+from+Shower.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I'm a tad bit worried our daughter will think we are crazy.</div>
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And she may wonder how her parents ever got married because we are so different.</div>
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I like to get dressed up and go to fancy parties while the farmer doesn't like that so much.</div>
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He would rather sit on the back porch with a beer, cigar and a good novel.</div>
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I give daily presentations to my husband, and he doesn't seem to mind.</div>
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However, one night recently we were quietly reading for a few hours and I apparently seemed to give lots of many presentations in that time frame. When I interrupted silent time to say something, yet again, he took a deep breath and looked up from his book.</div>
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I said, "I'm sorry, what's wrong?"</div>
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He replied, "you have been talking for two hours."</div>
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I almost started crying, actually I did, because I didn't realize how much I had been interrupting and for how long. However, he quickly interrupted my mini-pregnancy breakdown to assure me it was okay and really not to worry.</div>
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In the end, it's all about "<i><a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2016/02/compromise-love.html">compromise and love</a></i>". </div>
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And I think our daughter will learn that from us and we hope she does the same thing with her significant other in the future.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLxwc1qNdfOuqpo3UNCCeL0qQON618Wir4OkoPS1Ca-sIxUIfqTvIVKs3QmHJTMB0HWa8L9RYtjKWH3TGqqFaiLqZEWpc8C0G84kewR6tyBBK7uu378kQRijnuvfxDKfBnyBqDAlVdcE/s1600/IMG_0467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLxwc1qNdfOuqpo3UNCCeL0qQON618Wir4OkoPS1Ca-sIxUIfqTvIVKs3QmHJTMB0HWa8L9RYtjKWH3TGqqFaiLqZEWpc8C0G84kewR6tyBBK7uu378kQRijnuvfxDKfBnyBqDAlVdcE/s400/IMG_0467.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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In prepping for baby, I have been all about making sure she has nice and fancy things but also that her family and heritage is a part of every step of this process.</div>
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My late father-in-law loved columbines. </div>
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And my sister-in-law, made sure there were some at our family shower.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxi5OyXLb8ErWoBSP7Grnbe1ZgurE3QJZ-yVeJuQ4EGWGYaCB-NR78kJ61caaO1-iO4MZ6t0Sy3iyky3RTcpbCm1ZTk7_m4iKb2ZniBkX_Y-sOgesACdfERFZscPosyx7ivGQIJaR1iE/s1600/Columbine+Flowers+at+Baby+Shower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxi5OyXLb8ErWoBSP7Grnbe1ZgurE3QJZ-yVeJuQ4EGWGYaCB-NR78kJ61caaO1-iO4MZ6t0Sy3iyky3RTcpbCm1ZTk7_m4iKb2ZniBkX_Y-sOgesACdfERFZscPosyx7ivGQIJaR1iE/s400/Columbine+Flowers+at+Baby+Shower.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I love my roots and celebrating, so I made sure to plant a Tulip Tree on my family farm in honor of my daughter and Indiana's Bicentennial.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldY5lzjaswK8BPbTsGhgKoQsviFwcW5GTgiv6lsi7QgIc_Eo_NRyEptL7kwEQOfDgMMC3izOv8DgJjiAOtnflMwVrA4nfLxAHe_MYPCuzXhDZH0QduWzNQg-JWnB9xxMEK9D1Dl9EyMs/s1600/IMG_0304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldY5lzjaswK8BPbTsGhgKoQsviFwcW5GTgiv6lsi7QgIc_Eo_NRyEptL7kwEQOfDgMMC3izOv8DgJjiAOtnflMwVrA4nfLxAHe_MYPCuzXhDZH0QduWzNQg-JWnB9xxMEK9D1Dl9EyMs/s640/IMG_0304.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
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And I love all things fancy in the country and this diaper cake really brought that all together.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFLS4704scqQIGnIfmORmQYTXR-lUKPFWtfMZrvp7Bxiu5pKIbiHl27m51zZZP6bRrFKulCFAv6ev3P75uKipju5glbOkocNtimQLglFHRU8Xsu63KI_TBfzGNG_PrKonlnvJLZ8eneA/s1600/IMG_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFLS4704scqQIGnIfmORmQYTXR-lUKPFWtfMZrvp7Bxiu5pKIbiHl27m51zZZP6bRrFKulCFAv6ev3P75uKipju5glbOkocNtimQLglFHRU8Xsu63KI_TBfzGNG_PrKonlnvJLZ8eneA/s640/IMG_0364.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Many people have asked how I have been and if I have gone off the deep end or been more demanding than usual (not really sure why they would think this!). My husband will honestly say that I have been pretty good through this whole process even if I hate being pregnant. </div>
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I have been keeping a baby journal and it asked to write all the things I love about being pregnant and the things I don't like. Let's just say the love part had 1 thing and the other side had several.......</div>
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I am a people person, so not having the energy to socialize as much has been difficult for me.</div>
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I got really upset during the Indy 500 activities and said, "I should be at this event and that thing and really should go to the race." He looked at me and said, "that's what you used to do. You are at a different stage of your life now. Accept it." My response with a few tears, "you are right...."</div>
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When we were checking cattle recently, all the cows gathered around the truck except for this cow and her calf. She stayed away from the crowd, feeding and caring for her calf while she watched the chaos that ensued in the distance.</div>
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I realized at that moment that I am going to be that cow. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5u654MjRFxrDdwLTniyuyCj4miYU1RETrJTdY9yvrWyfY10K1GnSr_xMhxt_2KZ_DXJTSQk4IQ8VgNLHEOlM3A4P2STok2QAIVU4rrLV1i5ilSATKliG3McbehL2HD1L29f0rOSBaqM/s1600/Cow+and+her+Calf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5u654MjRFxrDdwLTniyuyCj4miYU1RETrJTdY9yvrWyfY10K1GnSr_xMhxt_2KZ_DXJTSQk4IQ8VgNLHEOlM3A4P2STok2QAIVU4rrLV1i5ilSATKliG3McbehL2HD1L29f0rOSBaqM/s640/Cow+and+her+Calf.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And my husband, who would have much rather been up on that ridge alone like the cow may have to deal with the chaos more than he would like in the near future.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec2yxWbiSvHjCD5Sc3GYR-k-A4fxWIiJ2cx79zv7otUXR87zlrtDjPdmi2_m3er9poXG4aMSUJrPKXK9e5iyzyu_w8IQaqY2nStXZ_JwWWFHwwWrcS0QQ10NdAio9cy18QmG4PhwEPFY/s1600/Brett+watching+cows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec2yxWbiSvHjCD5Sc3GYR-k-A4fxWIiJ2cx79zv7otUXR87zlrtDjPdmi2_m3er9poXG4aMSUJrPKXK9e5iyzyu_w8IQaqY2nStXZ_JwWWFHwwWrcS0QQ10NdAio9cy18QmG4PhwEPFY/s640/Brett+watching+cows.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Everyone says that parenthood will change your life, and I have no doubts about that.</div>
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But there are some things in our life that will not change when our daughter comes, well they may change slightly.</div>
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The ambition to be active and involved in our industry, community and world. (Don't worry, she already has a suit jacket for political fundraisers.)</div>
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The love for quiet, reading time but now it may be with baby books instead of the </div>
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<i>Foreign Affairs Journal </i>and <i>Vanity Fair.</i></div>
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The dreams of travel and planning trips that we will continue to take, now with our daughter.</div>
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The desire to learn something new every day but now we will have to teach her along with each other.</div>
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The passion for our work and our family farms that we hope she observes every day by our actions, </div>
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love and hard work.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XQg4BIgKb_PAzF9yNn5Vs-hJb9UhX2LIf6xD91O-PXz6lVgBvdHngL2JbvH_OKV-i0QZcjenvaPgcq4NVczLPLb2uYi4nwnHPoikT95dkcznc3gbVn7ZqeE1WIrPpxBGqG2lF8jBOVw/s1600/IMG_0489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8XQg4BIgKb_PAzF9yNn5Vs-hJb9UhX2LIf6xD91O-PXz6lVgBvdHngL2JbvH_OKV-i0QZcjenvaPgcq4NVczLPLb2uYi4nwnHPoikT95dkcznc3gbVn7ZqeE1WIrPpxBGqG2lF8jBOVw/s640/IMG_0489.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
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Every time my husband touches my belly to feel our daughter, she stops moving and kicking. </div>
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I think she likes him better which is just wonderful.</div>
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But recently he felt a kick and said, "I just took a direct hit!"</div>
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I replied, "No, I did. You just got the aftershock."</div>
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In the many years we have ahead of us in our marriage and raising our children, I know that we will be able get through it with our love and support and everything will be okay in the end. It won't matter who takes the direct hit or expereiences the aftershock because the compromise and love will have made us stronger.</div>
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And in several years when we ask ourselves, "what have we done?", we will be able to answer confidently that we did our best to raise our children to appreciate their roots and wings, live with ambition, kindness and passion to prosper for generations to come.</div>
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<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-43308352198471523712016-06-09T07:12:00.001-07:002016-06-09T07:12:57.927-07:00Lessons of Life & Death on the Farm <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
A new baby will be arriving on the farm in 4 weeks or so. <br />
No, it's not a calf or another animal but our baby girl.<br />
The time has flown but yet I am so, so ready (physically, not mentally).<br />
During the entire pregnancy, I have thought of things I want her to learn, know, do and be a part of.<br />
<br />
Father's Day is soon and there have been plenty of advertisements to remind us of that.<br />
This year will be the last year we don't celebrate Father's Day. <br />
With both of our dad's gone to heaven above we don't celebrate,<br />
but with the little one on the way, we will next year!<br />
<br />
Here is an article I recently wrote for <i>Farm Indiana</i>. <br />
There are lessons I want my daughter to know and it's about the two grandfather's she will know of<br />
but will never meet until she gets to heaven.<br />
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***<br />
<br />
I am sure
I have written about this before but now that we are about to welcome our first
baby into the world, I have been thinking about it more often. </div>
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I have been thinking of things I want to tell
her and stories I need to share. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Our
daughter will be a part of two farm families that have been around for
generations. She will understand the
seasons at an early age and how much Mother Nature is a part of our lives. She will run around in the dirt that will
produce a crop that will help feed a growing world and sustain our family
farms. And our daughter will know a lot
about life and death at an early age, just as I did. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have
been a part of many celebrations in my life—birthdays, weddings, graduations,
welcoming life into this world, career successes, sharing love, laughter and
accomplishments </div>
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with friends and family and finding the love of my life. <o:p></o:p></div>
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However,
I have also been a part of a lot of negative things and death. I was in preschool when my paternal
grandfather collapsed at the county fair surrounded by family and friends and
was rushed to the hospital. I remember
the chaos of the day, the days that followed, and I vividly remember his
funeral. My great cousin was playing the
piano at the end of the service when I turned to look at my dad and he was
crying. My maternal grandfather passed
when I was a sophomore in high school.
My mom took me to the nursing home to see him often, and I would sit in
his room while she talked to the nurses.
Grandpa was a firm believer in education and being involved in your
community. So as I watched him wilt away
from this earthly life, I studied my vocabulary words and planned student
council activities. At the funeral, I
saw my dad cry again. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I only
saw my dad cry a handful of times in his life; at those funerals and a few
times during sports movies and westerns.
I also saw him laugh a lot and celebrate with family and friends. When he died, I cried but I also celebrated
because that is what he always taught me to do.
There were signs that came in the weeks after his death that made me
realize his life was worth celebrating and laughing at even after death. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Our
daughter will never know her grandfathers, maternal and paternal, as they have
both have gone to heaven above. My dad
and my husband’s father died on their farms, where they worked and lived--a
place they called home. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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However,
our daughter will know them by the stories we tell and the lessons we teach
her. One of our family beliefs is that
“God will take you when he wants you” and really there is nothing you can do
about it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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At a
young age, she will understand that sometimes baby calves die of complications
or you have to end your animals’ lives to prevent them from suffering more than
they have to. I learned at a very young
age on the farm that the killing and caring of your own animals makes you more
connected to life.<br />
You understand life and death better when you are living it every
day. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope my
daughter lives a long, happy and prosperous life. I hope she understands just how precious it
is and how quickly it can be taken away.
I hope she sees us cry some and laugh a lot on our farm where we live
and work and stay connected to life and death.
It’s a wonderful lesson we learned from our fathers on our farms.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-74484938568607981652016-05-26T09:11:00.001-07:002016-05-26T09:11:09.534-07:00Calm in the Storm <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been raining a lot lately on our farm, too much.</div>
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The days of sunny skies that bring dry weather to soak up the moisture </div>
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in the fields have been few and far between. <br />
(But this week has been great and with a few long nights, we are finished planting!)</div>
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I came home one night to my farmer who I knew was stressed but didn't show it.</div>
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"Let's go check some fields and cows," he said.</div>
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I obliged, didn't change out of my dress and hopped my pregnant self in the truck.</div>
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I love checking cows with my husband. </div>
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It seems so natural to him to stand in an open pasture with the cattle.</div>
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I love standing in the pasture too, but they don't seem to like me as much as they like him.</div>
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I get these stares quite frequently when I'm with the cattle. </div>
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Maybe they know I'm not the one that feeds them.</div>
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As he continued to walk through the pasture, I just starred at him and watched the cattle follow him calmly. Everything was so peaceful even though a storm had just come and gone and another one was about to arrive.</div>
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I looked away for a few minutes and all of a sudden, I seemed to lose him.</div>
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But he was there.....in the middle of the cattle acting cool, calm and collected just as he always does.</div>
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I, on the other hand, was standing near the bull who wasn't really pleased with me.</div>
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While I did and always stay calm with the cattle, I felt like the bull this time.</div>
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The one that can cause havoc and disrupt the peace.</div>
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Pregnancy has made me realize how much I love and appreciate my husband.</div>
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While I may be the bull in the china shop with sudden bursts of emotions and tears, he is the calm in the storm. </div>
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When I yell, "honey, I'm pregnant! Look at me!"</div>
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He responds with his calm demeanor, "yep, there's a baby in there."</div>
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He's the one with the steady hand that deals with my crazy requests, </div>
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my constant need for cuddling and pregnancy shopping habits.</div>
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I talk too much and disrupt his peace, but after all of that he still loves me.</div>
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I've pretty much accepted that I am like the bull and can hang with him as we try to keep our emotions intact.</div>
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And when we do cause a storm, the peaceful cows and my calm husband will be around to bring us back to reality and remind us to chill out.</div>
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Even my husband's steady, calm hand can soothe our baby and she's not even here yet.</div>
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Maybe they both will be the calm in my storm....let's just hope!</div>
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<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-14936554197205785782016-05-06T07:29:00.000-07:002016-05-06T07:29:14.750-07:00Motherhood on the Farm <br />
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It's almost Mother's Day and it seems to be a bit different this year.</div>
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It might be because I will be a mother soon and I can feel the child moving around all the time!</div>
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Or it might mean that I'm totally freaked out and really have no idea what to expect.</div>
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And you know what that means, I will be calling my mom.....a lot.</div>
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She knows it because I already do. </div>
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I still call her from the grocery asking her where things are, so she gets it.</div>
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There are so many things I want my little girl to know and do and hope for.</div>
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I want to tell her a lot and teach her a lot.</div>
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However, I need to realize that my daughter will pick up on things from me just being me </div>
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and living a full, happy and wonderful life.</div>
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Kind of like I picked up my love for polka dots from my mom without her telling me.</div>
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<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEl_Kv1Jjj1U89s7Knfx6BaI29SJZRYQ60dQONchfp2kVhjnOB9Zg1opvrl4f2zP_sqdx9MoWa8CHAxId-ld16wQhlMLex_Vwuz31PbUWwP7GMXMndZrZxfZJwZVstF7PxKFnJB3oywRo/s400/IMG_1907.JPG" width="400" /></div>
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My daughter will grow up on a farm just like I did.</div>
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She will be a farmer's daughter and a part of two family farms that have been around for generations.</div>
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I want her to be proud of the ground beneath her feet and the dirt that feeds her life.</div>
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I want her to realize she may have to run to the field to help her dad or her family while she in her high heels.</div>
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I want her to realize she may have to chase cows in a <a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2016/02/i-stepped-in-it.html">fancy dress or while she is wearing pantyhose </a>but it's okay because her mom and grandma did.</div>
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I want my little girl to be able to look in the distance at a storm cloud and see the rain coming, </div>
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not to be oblivious of it's arrival and the impact it may have.</div>
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I want her to understand when life starts and when it ends and everything in between.</div>
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I want her to realize that sometimes life is hard and we lose some--fights, animals, crops, friends, family, etc.--but to still have <a href="https://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2016/04/farmer-optimism.html">optimism</a>.</div>
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I want her to embrace each moment of life--the good, bad and ugly.</div>
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I want her to surround herself with wonderful women and role models (men included).</div>
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I want her to fall down, get some bumps and bruises, cry some and then get back up and live it all over again.</div>
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I want her to not be afraid to express herself through her words, actions, wardrobe, career and involvement. </div>
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And if she wants to be <i>Fancy in the County</i>, that's great!</div>
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On this Mother's Day, I hope my daughter is okay living in the country and on a farm even though many people don't think <a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2015/11/an-actual-working-farm.html">working farms exist anymore.</a></div>
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Someday, she will learn of the <a href="https://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2016/03/celebrate-women-of-agriculture.html">love and sacrifices her mother, sister and grandmother </a>made for our family farms. She will know that her father and grandfathers were the salt of the earth that gave much of what they had to her without even knowing she would come along.</div>
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I hope motherhood on the farm is just as amazing as my childhood was, and I want my daughter to pick-up life lessons by watching the wonderful women in my life.</div>
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And if it's not that great and she doesn't do what I say, I'm calling my mom!</div>
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Farm moms always make things better.</div>
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-44657438264488596632016-04-28T07:07:00.001-07:002016-04-28T07:07:24.890-07:00Farmer Optimism <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s a tough road at times, this life we
live and the work we do. But there is
always something to be positive about and grateful for, even in the darkest of
days. I recently read that they say a
farmer has to be an optimist or he wouldn’t still be a farmer, and it’s
absolutely true.</span><span style="color: #191919; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As a farmer’s
daughter and farmer’s wife, I’ve been a part of a lot of optimistic rituals in
my life—praying, positive attitude, rain dances hard life lessons and more
praying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the 1990s, I was devastated when we
sold all of our pigs. The market was bad
and we had to invest and concentrate on other areas of the farm. This was a lesson in economics at a young age, I guess
you could say which has helped me in my adult life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the flood of 2008, when I watched my
dad look out over our flooded fields I thought all hope was gone. Then he took us home and said, “Mother Nature
is not very kind sometimes, but there isn’t anything we can do about it. It’s just part of it. We are safe up here on the hill with good
people, food and beer. We will figure it
out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">In 2009, my dad died during harvest and
my family still had to go on.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The local
family farmers brought optimism back to our farm as they arrived with their
trucks to fill up loads of grain to take to market.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">That dark day turned out to be okay, even
without him.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the drought of 2012, I experienced
heartbreak on a daily basis when no rain would fall or heat lightening gave me
false hope for a storm that I would have gladly welcomed. I asked my husband if he wanted to do rain
dances like I used to do when I was a kid.
I got “the look” if you know what I mean, but I danced a lot when he
wasn’t watching.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">And today, it’s the commodity
markets.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Prices are down, inputs are
high, there are too many regulatory and trade issues that farmers are dealing
with, and it’s all a dark reality each day as we approach the planting
season.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For the farmer, planting and harvesting
is inevitable. No matter what Mother
Nature will bring, how the markets will pan out or what obstacles God will lay
before him, our farmers still have to wake up each day to face the day because
there is no other way or another life they would rather live.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s really hard to explain to someone
that doesn’t live on a farm that your daily life revolves around the ground
below you, weather, market, crops, animals and the daily work around you. It’s a constant worry and a constant blessing
that I don’t take for granted because as dad would say, “it’s just part of it”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There are so many people these days that
lack optimism. It’s not surprising with
all the political rhetoric, daily negative stories on the news and more. However, when I sit for just a moment and
look around me, there is a lot to be optimistic about. I hear the new calves bawling in the pasture
behind our house—a sign of new life. I
see green, lots of green (finally!)—a sign of a new season. And I am reminded of the positive things in
my life—which bring me happiness and hope.
The optimism is there, we just have to slow down at times to see it and
feel it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I don’t know where or when I found this
quote but it sits on my desk as a daily reminder,<i><b> </b></i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;"><b>“The one who cultivates and lives always in the optimistic, cheerful, hopeful habit of mind and heart can never fail.”</b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">As our farmers face a new season ahead cultivating
the land and caring for the crops with little known to them about what Mother
Nature may bring, how the markets will go or what the crop may look like, they
will still try to find a way to remain optimistic.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">They have to for their livelihoods, their
families, future generations and for you. </span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-35770520123027622992016-04-07T07:16:00.000-07:002016-04-07T11:32:45.054-07:00A Tradition of Trash & Treasure<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1">It’s been a spring tradition in my family for awhile. It’s something I have never complained about, usually enjoy and am always proud to do. I wear my most worn boots, that just happen to be covered in green and pink flowers that have faded from the cow manure and mud. And each time before heading out the door I put my hair up, find my gloves and grab the white bag. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">As I make my way down the drive, I say a little prayer that I won’t find much. I mean surely people remember what we learned in school, have some decency and respect other people’s things. However, I am usually wrong. Each time I bend down to pick up that beer bottle, fast food bag, the old cigarette butts and much more, I am disappointed. I am disappointed that I have to pick up someone else’s trash on my family’s property. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1">Yes, picking up trash is the tradition. It has become a farm chore it seems as people pass through the countryside and enjoy the beauty but empty their trash along the way. They have no care about maintaining the land or respect for who might care for it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p3" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s2">My love of the land runs deep. I’ve written before about a favorite quote of mine that I was taught at a young age, </span><span class="s1">“The land is the only thing in the world worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for, </span><br />
<span class="s1">because it's the only thing that lasts”.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">So when I see that someone has discarded their trash in our fields and pastures I get angry, upset and disappointed. When I sense the laziness of the people that discard waste onto someone’s property, it makes me want to work harder to protect our land and advocate for agriculture more. A lot of people don’t think farmers work to preserve the land, but they do in so many ways. We are the ones that want the land to last for generations to come.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyfEm6rzUE3xgm62OdIXDaCb7Mm8AtB2njhZhoatPckO85t0be32aBIO77JgmVHp_TYJt7Fzbjhgz-HOYdEfgZY91ElR8hSysIlvID-8E5uQ3U7SO8TAZnP0Rat8N5wl_CiaAhhUkaxA/s1600/Kids+Running+in+Field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyfEm6rzUE3xgm62OdIXDaCb7Mm8AtB2njhZhoatPckO85t0be32aBIO77JgmVHp_TYJt7Fzbjhgz-HOYdEfgZY91ElR8hSysIlvID-8E5uQ3U7SO8TAZnP0Rat8N5wl_CiaAhhUkaxA/s640/Kids+Running+in+Field.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">As we were passing yet another field with trash in it recently, I went on one of my rages. My husband is used to it now and let’s me get it all out before asking, “are you okay?” He then calmly puts some thoughtfulness and sense to it all. As he pointed to one of our fields he said, “People don’t understand that that's our garden. It's just massive. But we still care for every seed and every plant. I can’t go pick every weed by hand but we try to do the best we can to take care of the land, our garden.” I reacted with some crazy hand gesture and yelled, “Yes! The fields are our gardens and the pastures are like our yards. Why can’t people understand, respect and appreciate that?!” He gave me that “I’m sure you will figure it out” look and turned up the radio. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I thought, maybe they didn’t learn about this beautiful earth and abundant land in school and that we should care for it on many levels. Maybe their moms and dads didn’t teach them about respecting other people’s property. As a farm girl and agriculture advocate who loves this land, maybe I can be a greater example this spring when I walk more pastures and fields to collect the trash. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">I’m sure picking up a few more pieces won’t hurt me, but I do think I need a new pair of boots so you can see the bright flowers as you pass me and enjoy the fields full of sprouting crops and the bright green pastures. I’ll help to make it last so your kids and grandkids can enjoy it too.</span><br />
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Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-63348023072032350922016-03-31T07:44:00.001-07:002016-03-31T07:44:39.681-07:00Such A Different Life<div style="text-align: center;">
I was recently visiting with some sorority sisters chatting away at what was going on in our lives.<br />
It seemed very normal and then one of them said it,<br />
"such a different life!"<br />
<br />
I had started to ramble about our life, which includes the farm and all the lingo that comes with it.<br />
Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows what farm life entails and the difference<br />
that exists between city life and country life, until they say something.<br />
<br />
I used to live in the city, so I get it.<br />
But most people who live in the city have never lived in the country, so they don't get it.<br />
<br />
They don't understand that my high heels never last as long because they get ruined<br />
by the gravel, the mud and the dust. <br />
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They don't understand that having medicine and syringes in your house is totally normal.<br />
I came home one day and the farmer told me a story about a cow that had some trouble delivering her calves and she had to be given some medicine.<br />
"You'll just have to deal with this syringe being in your drying rack," he said.<br />
(I like a clean kitchen.)<br />
"Honey, I don't care.....glad the cow and calf are doing well."</div>
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City folk don't understand the farm laundry situation.</div>
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It's constant and never ending.</div>
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It smells....like manure and dust and hard work.</div>
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And the strangest things can be found in pockets, in the washer and on top of the dryer--change, knives, ear plugs, and castrating bands. But when I find money, it's mine!</div>
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Folks that live in the city don't come home to a trailer full of cows in their driveway.</div>
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And understand where they are going (to the market before sunrise) and where they will end up (on my plate).</div>
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Most city folk don't get to eat the food they planted, nourished, watched grow and picked themselves. Unless they have a garden, which I commend them for, they just don't get to eat sweet corn standing in the middle of a field.</div>
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City folk don't understand that life and death can happen in the same place </div>
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you live and work on, the farm.</div>
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I was taught that <a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2014/06/heaven-is-under-our-feet.html">heaven is under out feet as well as over our heads.</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And when you lose someone or something on the farm, "i<i><a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2014/05/FancyintheCountry.html">t's just part of it</a></i>" and you must move on. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Farmers and their families <i>aren't really that different than city folk.</i></div>
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But in the grand scheme of things, <i>we do lead such different lives.</i></div>
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I try to explain it the best way possible, explaining my lingo, the laundry, calving, </div>
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the long hours, dirty floors, life, death and more.</div>
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However, this different life is one that I would never want to change, for better or worse, </div>
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because I get to stand on heaven and below heaven with my loved ones every day.</div>
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<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-6106930544993516612016-03-15T06:47:00.000-07:002016-03-15T06:47:00.597-07:00Celebrate the Women of Agriculture <div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
Today, March 15, 2016, is National Agriculture Appreciation Day.</div>
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It's a day when all of us in agriculture promote our way of life and our work to others while getting some national recognition. However, I won't lie, every day is agriculture appreciation day. </div>
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I was raised in it, work in it and live in this way of life each and every day.</div>
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And the older I become, I realize just how much my parents sacrificed for our way of life.</div>
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My dad was the farmer and my mom was the farmer's wife who wore heels and worked in town.</div>
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However, she sacrificed just as much as he did. </div>
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See below for an article my sister Sarah and I wrote for our local newspaper to celebrate agriculture and the women who raise their kids in it, work in it and live agriculture each and every day!</div>
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<span class="s1">*****</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Many things change over the course of a year and even a decade; kids grow taller, the wise gain more wrinkles, we celebrate new life and praise lives as they depart this earth. However, some things never change, like the core values of agriculture. It's been the same for centuries. As our first President George Washington, once said, </span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Agriculture is the most healthful, most useful and most noble employment of man”.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Sure there have been significant changes and positive strides in the way we raise our animals, produce a crop and care for our land but the values are the same. Farmers produce more with less land, less water, and less environmental impact. But the core premise of agriculture has been a mainstay and tradition forever--work hard with integrity, provide for your family, grow a good crop and trust God knows what he is doing </span></div>
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<span class="s1">(especially with the weather).</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab9LOaMdKLinHuakMlqka1919BuS5YG_EhoG6Cjv0MLyLWZmolIfAdCAOA7WofJwRnTq6PV8t_zEvJWjhIxz9dVK2rRS0vHJ6vFU_OljWcBUgbbIXVrko_pxrdPJ3mMItSVRKbQdmjWY/s1600/Grandpa%2527s+Hands+%2526+Soybeans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab9LOaMdKLinHuakMlqka1919BuS5YG_EhoG6Cjv0MLyLWZmolIfAdCAOA7WofJwRnTq6PV8t_zEvJWjhIxz9dVK2rRS0vHJ6vFU_OljWcBUgbbIXVrko_pxrdPJ3mMItSVRKbQdmjWY/s400/Grandpa%2527s+Hands+%2526+Soybeans.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Farmers work hard with their worn hands and calluses that stay with them for a lifetime. They rise before the sun and many times don’t come home until the moon is high in the sky. As kids, we liked to sleep in but our dad would come in and say, “Girls, you’re burnin’ daylight”. He, as a farmer, was always ready to get up and take on the day. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Working hard and long hours has always been a part of farming.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">As farm girls one thing we have learned is that on the 8th day God created the farmer, but on the 9th he created the farm girl, the farm wife and the farm mom. While our mom didn’t grow up on a farm, the values she taught us alongside our dad were the same--work hard with integrity, provide for your family, grow a good crop and trust God knows what he is doing. As a young girl she wanted to own a piece of farmland just as much as our dad and she eventually got the chance to do so.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This month we dedicate and celebrate not only the farmer but the women on the farm. We know they may not be the face of the farm or at the forefront of decisions or farm chores. However, they do need to be appreciated for raising the farm kids, caring for the farmer, doing chores when needed, caring for a baby calf in her house, running errands in town, and feeding the family. She is the woman who realizes her floors will never be clean and the laundry will never end. She needs to be thanked for working with her children on their 4-H projects last minute, running kids to club meetings, and for buying their 4-H showing outfits while she watches them work hard with the integrity she taught them.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">As we celebrate Agriculture Appreciation Month this March and National Ag Day on March 15th, we encourage you to learn something new about agriculture or reach out to those working in agriculture. And as you are eating each meal, thank a farmer and pray for the farm women who also sacrificed to bring food to your table. </span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-88852925613837063122016-03-10T06:22:00.000-08:002016-03-10T06:22:40.782-08:00Celebrating Farm Life….Every Day<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"><b></b></span>It's National Agriculture Appreciation Month! <br />
However, we celebrate and appreciate agriculture and our farm life everyday. <br />
Below is my most recent article from <i>Farm Indiana</i>.<br />
Enjoy and remember to thank a farmer this month!<br />
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<span class="s1">I was asleep in bed, enjoying the quiet on one of our cold, winter mornings when I heard the door open and boots stomping mud and manure all over the floor. I was sure he had forgotten something—his coffee, extra coat or paperwork—and my peace was disturbed. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Hello dear,” he proclaimed “sorry to bother but where can I find some old towels?” I took a deep breath, “We only have one and you used it on the dog.” “Oh,” he stated “I found a newborn calf half frozen by the barn. The mom had twins and I have got to warm her up. She’s in the front seat of the truck now.” </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I sat up in bed, my peace no longer a priority, and yelled, </span><br />
<span class="s1">“Oh no! Just take our bath towels, however many you need.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I worried about this calf all day and constantly asked for updates which I am sure were a bit annoying to my farmer as he tended to the herd and other daily chores in the freezing, windy weather. However, I got a picture that afternoon that helped bring the peace I had felt that morning back to life. Our niece and nephew were holding on to the newborn calf who was standing tall and looked warm and healthy. </span><br />
<span class="s1">They had appropriately named her Frosty.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAclChLKAeozvg8d2y-i42EAk5W5X5OHw_0KG92uV03s8DL_1GPXC5UPxZxokxCjcMNl5-NLUJNcfpHsOqEZ8GoxN5dhFwCwyf-E4PqT_GGU-fCYxVm_a7cte1HCxywqKXbplPCHXBZ8E/s1600/Ethan%252C+Sophie+%2526+Frosty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAclChLKAeozvg8d2y-i42EAk5W5X5OHw_0KG92uV03s8DL_1GPXC5UPxZxokxCjcMNl5-NLUJNcfpHsOqEZ8GoxN5dhFwCwyf-E4PqT_GGU-fCYxVm_a7cte1HCxywqKXbplPCHXBZ8E/s400/Ethan%252C+Sophie+%2526+Frosty.jpg" width="327" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Frosty lived through that dreadful morning and now runs around the barnyard with the kids like a pet dog. However my friends’ calf, so thoughtfully named Baby Flowers by their young daughter, did not make it through a similar dreadful day. She stated that her little girl would be devastated by the loss of this calf who she had grown so fondly of in just one day. I reminded my friend that her daughter would be okay. Her daughter would come to understand the concept of life and death at an early age that many people don’t teach their children about until they grow older. Her daughter would be stronger for going through the grieving process and learning to understand the emotions of what it brings to her outlook on life and the strength that sits within her.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">We celebrate and grieve in one way or another on the farm almost daily—the loss of an animal, the ups and downs of the commodity markets, the joy in growing something on the land we own and the weather, oh how we celebrate and have grief about the weather. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Life on the farm is full of both celebrations and griefs and it’s all very much worth it. In my short life, I have seen calves and baby pigs die, diseases strike our family’s cattle heard, the fall of crop prices, river waters flood my family’s fields too many times and the sun’s heat dry up the crops. I have watched my dad die on the farm that he sacrificed so much of his life for and celebrated his life on the same farm that his family continues to work on today. I have witnessed the hard work our farmers give daily to their family farms and the strength and endurance to keep them operating for generations to come celebrating the good and bad each step of the way.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">As we await spring to arrive and pray for a year full of good weather, steady prices and safety for our farmers, I am excited to celebrate Ag Appreciation Month in March and hope you will join me and learn something about agriculture and farmers. And I thank Frosty and Baby Flowers for their enduring life lessons and reminders that farm life is worth celebrating every day. </span></div>
Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559576951990632020.post-53367715011821535342016-02-25T07:07:00.000-08:002016-02-25T07:07:58.085-08:00I Stepped In It.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
.....barefoot. Yep, that brown with a hint of green, wet and gooey pile of cow manure.</div>
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I stepped in cow shit.</div>
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It's something as a farm girl, let alone a human being, you never want to do.</div>
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I've had my fair share of cow shit in life, but this was it. I had had enough!</div>
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It was late at night, it was dark and I was tired. I headed to the door to lock-up for the night </div>
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when I turned around it was right there, just waiting for me. </div>
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The farmer was already in bed, of course, and he had a long day so I didn't shout.</div>
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I just screamed in my head, hobbled my way to the bathroom to wash my foot and thought,</div>
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"I was barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen and I stepped in cow shit. If he would only take his boots off outside or wipe them off I wouldn't have this problem!"</div>
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But who am I to complain? </div>
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I have a wonderful and blessed life full of love and laughter.</div>
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I have a husband who cares for me and I for him.</div>
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We have the opportunity to welcome new life into this world and care for it more than most people do.</div>
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But as I was wiping my foot, I noticed one of his "pocket piles". </div>
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You know, the crap that men lay around anywhere and everywhere, little treasurers from their pockets they say. There was change, when all accounted for could probably help our life savings. </div>
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Then there were the green bands, the lovely castrating bands that end up all over my house this time of year. </div>
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You never really know when and where you may find these.</div>
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So I took a deep breath, headed to bed and told the farmer about my shitty step I had taken on the way to my sweet dreams, but he was half asleep already. </div>
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So I laid there, thinking how much I wanted my mom (I mean what girl doesn't sometimes).</div>
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I thought of all the random things she used to find in my dad's "pocket piles" and in her <a href="http://fancyinthecountry.blogspot.com/2014/11/tales-of-harvest-widow-her-critters-her.html">washing machine</a>. I thought of his muddy boots that sat by the back door and his cold, calloused hands he tortured my mom with like my husband does to me now.</div>
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And I remembered that time, after a long day, my mom pulled in our driveway with my sister and I to find baby calves roaming in our yard. She had a bright, red suite on that day--a true statement piece.</div>
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She said, "okay, get out girls, we have to chase them back into the pasture."</div>
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Sarah and I went running towards the calves and next thing I knew, my mom was running towards us in her pantyhose and bright, red suite. She was the statement piece.</div>
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Now that I am a farm wife and a soon to be mom, I think about the sacrifices my mom and all farm wives and moms make for their significant others and children. But as farmers, we have to sacrifice for our way of life too. It's not just about us and our families, but about the animals, the land and other families that we help feed.</div>
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So while the cow shit on my barefoot was rather inconvenient and annoying, </div>
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at the end of the day I am fine stepping in some shit to sacrifice.</div>
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And at any time in the future, I will be ready to chase these cows and their calves </div>
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back into the pasture in my bright, red suite.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OgiL96qGDlIS41MyjHNNzXnXWVuwZEXVd6OPaDeJWhZTnSTtT483FkVwz6sJKOgmZh3a_EEANrGQYpH6Mx4mNf-3DCUaKI6XSSUt9DGk9dzwGQ4Npm1n_mRd8VH5FFUZSchTWY_9tdM/s1600/Feeding+Cattle+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6OgiL96qGDlIS41MyjHNNzXnXWVuwZEXVd6OPaDeJWhZTnSTtT483FkVwz6sJKOgmZh3a_EEANrGQYpH6Mx4mNf-3DCUaKI6XSSUt9DGk9dzwGQ4Npm1n_mRd8VH5FFUZSchTWY_9tdM/s640/Feeding+Cattle+.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Katie Glickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15082974101874688400noreply@blogger.com0