I Needed a Minute...Do You?

It's been too long since I have blogged.
Two weeks to be exact.

But I needed a minute.
Do you ever just need a minute?

This winter and the month of March took it out of me, and it caught up with me the past two weeks.  With travel, the move, work, changes in friends' and family members' lives and a never ending to do list and involvement, I just needed to sit, be still and take a minute.

I needed a minute to call my grandma and discuss flowers.

I don't have a green thumb, she does, so she is my go to for all things flowers.
And sometimes you just need to call grandma.

I needed a minute to transfer these hens & chicks from the bungalow to our new house.  Grandma gave these to me when I graduated college and they have followed me to four different houses growing more and more with each move.

I needed a minute to come home, relax and actually read one of the 15 magazines stacked up on my coffee table.

I needed a minute to catch up on my handwritten notes that I love to send.

I needed a minute to really embrace what an honor it is to be a part of a leadership class for women that encourages them to run for political office.  And in that minute realize that I have always had two women in my life supporting me through everything I do.  Thanks to my mom and my sister who remind me to take a minute with them sometimes and embrace the moments we have together.

I needed a minute to realize that spending time with little boys can be really funny.  

Like when my husband left the house with a lawn mower and came home with a nephew, a dirty nephew.  

"Eli, why are you so dirty?" I asked.

He replied, "I don't know Aunt Katie, sometimes I play and get dirty." 

Well there you have it, that minute when you love him but hate his dirty feet in your clean kitchen.

While he enjoyed his watered down orange juice, I enjoyed my orange juice with champagne to celebrate that minute.  Then I sent him back outside....

As I took a few minutes the past couple of weeks, I noticed things I had forgotten.  And I discovered new things that I would have overlooked had I not just stopped to breath and take that minute, that moment.

This tree bloomed and then was gone a week later.  

I would have regretted not taking those minutes to stop and enjoy it. 

And by writing this and telling you, I hope I'm reminded to just take some time to slow down a bit every so often.  Those minutes always make me appreciate how blessed I am and discover new things to be thankful for.

So....do you need a minute?

Unspoken Lesson from the Farmer: Roots & Wings

Dad used to shake his head at me a lot.  I mean.....a lot.  

It was like he didn't get me or something (which is what some people say about me).  

But looking back now, I realize that he didn't always get me because we were so different and that was okay.  He raised me to be different, but to appreciate where I came from and where I was going.  

Unspoken Lesson from the Farmer:  Have roots and wings.

I pretty much grew up tall and grew up right with that Indiana corn on those Indiana nights.

And  I have always appreciated it.

But these days I see a lot of this, our nation's capitol. And a lot of cities which I also appreciate.

It was my parents that taught me to appreciate both; the roots and wings of my life.

They kept us grounded and let us run around barefoot to feel the dirt between our toes.

Remember "Heaven is Under Our Feet as well as Over Our Heads."

But it was my parents that let us spread our wings and fly. 

It wasn't just their words but their actions that supported our roots and gave us wings. 

And for that, I shall always be grateful.

Secretly, mom would have kept us all around forever and ever.  

Making us her famous homemade meals and sugar cookies while dad, Sarah and I sat around and watched "The Last of the Mohicans" was perfection to her.

Dad on the other hand, well dad tried to ship my friend Leslie and I off to mining country up in Canada when we were in college.  "There are lots of boys up there, you guys could have your pick!  Katie, there are no malls but they have money so there you go!  I can hire someone to take you guys up there."  

Oh thanks, Tim.  Some special wings you want to give us.  I think he wanted to ship us off because he wanted us to stop spending his money and to go and spend someone else's.

But he didn't get rid of us.  

Instead, we stayed and danced many nights away with him at weddings and drank beer with him around the fire.  Secretly, I think he wanted it that way instead of us in a random mining town with a bunch of boys! 

Dad used to always say, "there are too many cars around here anymore.   Too many people.  I am moving out west."  And I used to always tell mom, "when I am rich someday, I am going to buy dad a small ranch out west, in Montana."

Well, dad never got his wings to move west.  But he did get his wings to fly up to heaven 5 years ago this month.  

My friend Lindsay, over on Jeans Boots Blog, and I took one of our grounded gypsy trips west one fall.  

We went to Montana.  

And for my next birthday I received this.

Dad rode along on our wings during that trip.  Believe me, he was there because we ran into some pretty interesting characters and still made it back to our roots here in Indiana. 

So while he was always country and the center of my roots, I was his fancy and the wings that flew him west.  

And tomorrow I leave for Paris.  

And I guarantee you he is shaking his head at me.

Farm to Table: Thanks for Joining Our Movement

As we sat on the porch and enjoyed a dinner together on a summer night my husband said, 

"honey, our entire dinner came from a 3 mile radius.  People talk about this new local food movement, but farmers have been eating local forever."

I had to laugh as I ate the first bite of my local dinner and sipped on my not so local vodka.  

(Glick sweet corn, lamb links from the neighbors and 

zucchini from the local farmer's market.)

And that got me contemplating a lot about it; the local food concept.

While our farming families have been eating local for as long as humans have been eating, others have not been able to enjoy that same fortune.  And they are just starting to catch onto this trend that farmers don't necessarily understand but support. 

I mean they can't even get out of their own sweet corn field without eating some of their own crop.

My family has the great fortune of having a large group of friends that we have camped with over the years called “The Village”.  Many times, it was our family’s responsibility to bring the meat for our pitch-in dinners around the campfire.  Dad was famous for grilling with one hand and having an ice cold beer in the other as our mother was busy prepping the other dishes.  

My sister and I are notorious for being honest, and sometimes blunt but truthful.  One weekend as our family friends took that first bite of the juicy burger my dad cooked from our family farm, my sister proclaimed, “guys, we are eating Henrietta right now.”  Their astonished and confounded looks were a little shocking to me because we always ate Henrietta or Bessie or whoever made it to the freezer that year.  But they did not, they didn't completely understand the local, farm to table experience we so enjoyed each meal.

And I will never forget my first year showing animals and that last day of the county fair when I was to sell my 4-H pig at the auction.  I was confident and determined to get in the ring and make a profit for my college education (and the $50 my mom would let us keep for back to school shopping...we didn't tell dad).  

But along with the confidence came the fear and emotions that every 4-H kid faces on auction day—I didn’t want to say goodbye.  I didn’t want to go home without my pig that I had worked with all spring and summer.  But as I confidentially exited the auction ring and headed back to the barn where I could see the semi in the distance I looked up at my dad with teary eyes and he said, “Say your goodbyes, you did your work.  Let it go, Katie.  He has to go on the trailer.  This is what I told you about; that's just part of it.  Part of the process of 4-H and agriculture.” 

And then he walked away!  He left me there to experience the heart-wrenching process of putting my animal on the trailer to head to the market.  Looking back now, that is when I started to understand the whole process of “farm to table” but didn't quite know it yet.  This is when I started to care for animals that would someday be on someone's table--someone else's bacon.

My family has been part of the “farm to table” process for generations and we will continue to be for many years to come.  I am excited that so many people have just recently become aware of the “farm to table” concept, but it’s not a new movement for farmers.  It was always a way of life, always "just part of it", always “farm to table”.  Thanks for finally joining and appreciating the family farm and the food we bring your table.

Many Farmers Means Many Choices

I have started writing for Farm Indiana.  It's a monthly publication from the company that distributes our local paper.  I have read it every month since I met my husband because he and his brother are featured sometimes as grain farmers or grass-fed beef producers.  I met the editor and was surprised when I was asked to write a monthly column.  

When I sat down and really read what the paper was about, I agreed to write because I love sharing my agriculture story and educating people about the various aspects of farming and country life.

Here is what Farm Indiana is about:  "Farm Indiana" presents the news and views of Indiana's farming world, including features about local families and their farms, agriculture businesses, equipment, innovation and technological advances, educational outreach programs, real estate, farming legislation and more.  

On this first Tuesday of the month, here is my article about choice and the freedom we have when choosing our food.  I hope you enjoy my first monthly column!

I wake up every morning in an old house nestled between a corn field and a soybean field and across from another soybean field.  The guy lying next to me is a farmer and is usually snoring, a side effect from working outdoors all day with various animals, crops and dust.

Over the years, as a farmer’s daughter and now farmer’s wife, I have learned that agriculture is big, small, diverse, local and global.  All at the same time. 

Whether it’s growing the food we eat, feeding animals, driving trucks that deliver products, supplying fuel to the farm so tractors run, picking sweet corn or other vegetables for the local farmer’s market; agriculture touches everyone.

I keep a bright sign in my office that boldly proclaims “No Farms, No Food.” A former boss of mine used to come to work every week, look at that sign and say, “I eat, so I am part of agriculture.”  Yes he is!

Agriculture takes on so many forms in so many places. We can all be a part of it, even if our roles are different.

We are blessed to have choices and opportunities when choosing the foods we eat.  Think about all of your choices: frozen or fresh, local or global, organic or traditional and much more. 

I can buy bacon at the grocery store, the local meat market or farmer’s market.  Or, we can buy on a larger scale and buy a pig from a local farmer.

I choose where to buy tomatoes.  We choose the freshest tomatoes, and will go to great lengths to buy fresh tomatoes from the farmer’s market or food stands especially in the summertime. 

However, there are times we have fewer options.  In our town, there is only one type of arugula that I can find. We love this variety of lettuce so much that we’ll buy it, even though we don’t necessarily like our selection.  I’m faced with a product I don’t like, trips to town or a disappointed husband!  

I see agriculture not as a big tent, but a big barn.  Grain producers, livestock growers, vegetable farmers, organic farmers and others all contribute to the ag industry.  In the modern agricultural world, we should all support agricultural diversity.  Whether a 6^th generation farm, a local farmer’s market, hog farm, a backyard garden, 4-H kids, or even just a couple of chickens, agriculture is an essential component of everyday life. 

I read Farm Indiana because they share stories from a diverse group of farmers, like me.  I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I do and that you will enjoy my contribution every month.

Life is about choices.  You choose between a car or truck when buying a new car. You choose between the green dress or red dress when shopping.  Choices are a great thing in a consumer-driven world.  As agriculture expands in our modern world, we should all celebrate the choices we get to make.