Such A Different Life

I was recently visiting with some sorority sisters chatting away at what was going on in our lives.
It seemed very normal and then one of them said it,
"such a different life!"

I had started to ramble about our life, which includes the farm and all the lingo that comes with it.
Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows what farm life entails and the difference
that exists between city life and country life, until they say something.

I used to live in the city, so I get it.
But most people who live in the city have never lived in the country, so they don't get it.

They don't understand that my high heels never last as long because they get ruined
by the gravel, the mud and the dust.

They don't understand that having medicine and syringes in your house is totally normal.
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.
"You'll just have to deal with this syringe being in your drying rack," he said.
(I like a clean kitchen.)
"Honey, I don't care.....glad the cow and calf are doing well."

City folk don't understand the farm laundry situation.

It's constant and never ending.

It smells....like manure and dust and hard work.

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!

Folks that live in the city don't come home to a trailer full of cows in their driveway.

And understand where they are going (to the market before sunrise) and where they will end up (on my plate).

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.

City folk don't understand that life and death can happen in the same place 

you live and work on, the farm.

I was taught that heaven is under out feet as well as over our heads.  

And when you lose someone or something on the farm, "it's just part of it" and you must move on.  

Farmers and their families aren't really that different than city folk.

But in the grand scheme of things, we do lead such different lives.

I try to explain it the best way possible, explaining my lingo, the laundry, calving, 

the long hours, dirty floors, life, death and more.

However, this different life is one that I would never want to change, for better or worse, 

because I get to stand on heaven and below heaven with my loved ones every day.

Celebrate the Women of Agriculture

Today, March 15, 2016, is National Agriculture Appreciation Day.

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.  

I was raised in it, work in it and live in this way of life each and every day.

And the older I become, I realize just how much my parents sacrificed for our way of life.

My dad was the farmer and my mom was the farmer's wife who wore heels and worked in town.

However, she sacrificed just as much as he did.  

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!

*****

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, 

“Agriculture is the most healthful, most useful and most noble employment of man”.

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 

(especially with the weather).

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.  

Working hard and long hours has always been a part of farming.

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.

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.

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. 

Celebrating Farm Life….Every Day

It's National Agriculture Appreciation Month!
However, we celebrate and appreciate agriculture and our farm life everyday.
Below is my most recent article from Farm Indiana.
Enjoy and remember to thank a farmer this month!

***

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.  

“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.”  

I sat up in bed, my peace no longer a priority, and yelled, 
“Oh no!  Just take our bath towels, however many you need.”

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.  
They had appropriately named her Frosty.

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.

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.  

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.

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. 

I Stepped In It.....

.....barefoot.  Yep, that brown with a hint of green, wet and gooey pile of cow manure.

I stepped in cow shit.

It's something as a farm girl, let alone a human being, you never want to do.

I've had my fair share of cow shit in life, but this was it.  I had had enough!

It was late at night, it was dark and I was tired.  I headed to the door to lock-up for the night 

when I turned around it was right there, just waiting for me.  

The farmer was already in bed, of course, and he had a long day so I didn't shout.

I just screamed in my head, hobbled my way to the bathroom to wash my foot and thought,

"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!"

But who am I to complain?  

I have a wonderful and blessed life full of love and laughter.

I have a husband who cares for me and I for him.

We have the opportunity to welcome new life into this world and care for it more than most people do.

But as I was wiping my foot, I noticed one of his "pocket piles".  

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. 

Then there were the green bands, the lovely castrating bands that end up all over my house this time of year.  

You never really know when and where you may find these.

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.  

So I laid there, thinking how much I wanted my mom (I mean what girl doesn't sometimes).

I thought of all the random things she used to find in my dad's "pocket piles" and in her washing machine.  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.

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.

She said, "okay, get out girls, we have to chase them back into the pasture."

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.

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.

So while the cow shit on my barefoot was rather inconvenient and annoying, 

at the end of the day I am fine stepping in some shit to sacrifice.

And at any time in the future, I will be ready to chase these cows and their calves 

back into the pasture in my bright, red suite.

Compromise & Love

It's another week full of meetings and travel.  

In honor of the fake holiday Valentine's Day coming up, please enjoy my recent article in Farm Indiana.  We celebrate love a lot on our farm and hope you celebrate it every day too!

*****

As the winter nights have settled in and the farmer has been home more, I have thought a lot about “love” lately.  He loves me enough to ignore my frequent shopping bags and my many lunches and dinners to catch-up with friends.  He has the patience to listen to the “presentations” I give each evening to report on the day’s activities.  However, I love him enough to do more loads of laundry than I ever could have imagined.  I have enough love for him to realize I will never have clean floors, and I must ignore the cow manure and dirt to get through each day. 

With love comes compromise.  It’s in every relationship we have with one another, our work, our families and even ourselves.  I think we sometimes get so wrapped up in ourselves that we forget about the others around us.  With the many issues going on in our community, country and world, I sometimes wonder what would happen if we added a little more compromise in our lives.  Maybe, just maybe, there would be a little more love. 

In regards to agriculture, I wish people would understand the compromises farmers and ranchers have to make in order to sustain the farms they love.  Baby animals aren’t on our schedule, so we have to compromise time with family or being away from home to bring more life into this world.  During disastrous weather events, farmers and ranchers have to compromise their own lives and homes to save their livestock.  Just in the past few months, families have had to decide whether to save their own homes from flood waters or to move their animals to higher ground and save their lives. 

Farmers also have to compromise their safety for their work and to bring food to your table.  My dad died while working on the farm, others have been run over or trapped by equipment or lost limbs.  Working and caring for livestock can be dangerous as well.  You can be trapped or trampled by an animal or drown while saving them.

At times, agriculture is attacked for our way of life and our work.  And many times those that seem to judge don’t have the understanding or will to learn about what we love to do each and every day.  I always think, wouldn’t it be nice if they could compromise a little of their time to learn because we compromise our time to feed them?

In our two and a half years of marriage, I have realized we have had to give a little, take a little and commit to a lot for our love.  Compromising isn’t always hard and many times is for the best even if we don’t know it yet.  We may be on the opposite side of an issue or argument every so often, but we support each other no matter what the outcome is or who may be right. 

Even though I am right and believe the floors would be cleaner if he took his boots off outside, I compromise and let him come inside because it’s all for the love.

Life Changes on the Farm

It's been a long and interesting few weeks.  

And it's been too long since I have written a blog.

But I've been tired, hungry, sick and boggled that my life will change drastically in a few months.  

We are expecting our first baby in July and the kid really knocked the wind out of me recently.

I've called it an alien, a weirdo and accused it of being mean to me.

But yet, I have started buying the baby cute toys and clothes.  

 Even though I am excited, it is a little scary imagining that your life will change so drastically.

No more peaceful nights of reading with my husband while we sip on cocktails. 

No more deciding to have date night last minute or whisking away to another country for our travel adventures.

Just recently, I have started to think about all the positive things I will do with our baby and children.  

I will get to sing them songs that my mom sang to us as young children.

I will get to teach them about the ground beneath their feet and our farm life that provides for others.

We will teach them about their grandfathers that are watching them from heaven above and can be seen by the moon, just as the moon can see them.

We recently watched our niece and two nephews one Sunday morning for almost two hours. 

It was nice and crazy......

Instead of a peaceful Sunday morning with french press coffee and morning political shows, we traded with animal cracker crumbs everywhere and Planet Earth with commercial entertainment compliments of the kids' wrestling matches.  

They climbed all over us, would sit still for a minute, and then change positions while kicking you along the way then would be up and on their way to the next best thing.

When they left, I was again boggled.  Not sure I wanted to do this....have children.  

But at the end of the day, they were good, entertaining and full of love and cuddles. 

The baby has been a bit nicer in the past week or so I feel more energy coming on!

I'm getting more excited which means more shopping and I'm sure that will thrill my husband.

When the time comes for our baby to arrive, I am sure our lives will get more hectic and busy.

But we will just have to push on with our sleepless nights and french press coffee.

We embrace it all and enjoy our time on the farm watching our crops and children grow.

An Actual Working Farm

I've recently been trying to appreciate many things in my life and take 

time for myself which is why I haven't written in awhile.  I've also been lacking 

inspiration on what to write and how to organize my thoughts until recently.

I was at a reception last week when someone asked what I did and where I was from.

I told this young woman that I grew up on a farm and my husband and I live on our family farm now where we grow corn, soybeans and wheat, raise cattle, have a family-owned seed company and now mill grain for distilleries who make spirits.

She let me ramble and talk, shaking her head like she somewhat got what I was talking about.

Until a few minutes in she stopped me and said, 

"wait, an actual working farm?  You live on an actual working farm?"

Pause for deep breath.

"Yes" I replied, "and my husband is a farmer, as his full-time job, on our actual working farm."

I drove home that night mind boggled, but yet feeling blessed that I know 

what an actual working farm is and that they actually still exist and 

that there are farmers working full-time on the farm. 

I grew-up not knowing anything different.  

We lived on the farm.  Town was far away.  My dad and grandpa and great-grandpa were farmers.

The farmers, my farmers, taught me about our actual working farm where we raised crops and cared for animals because other people couldn't, wouldn't or shouldn't.  

We were blessed with love for the land and the work ethic to live and work on the farm.

Even though many of my friends growing up and even today don't understand my farm lingo or what happens on our actual working farm, I feel blessed that I do.

I feel blessed that I know where my food comes from and 

the sacrifice the farmers made growing and raising our food.

It will be 6 years ago this Friday that we lost a farmer, our farmer.

He lived and worked on our actual working farm.

He loved his wife and raised his children on that farm and that land.

And he died on that same farm.

While we miss him dearly, he taught us not to sulk and the tough stuff 

in life is "just part of it".

Mom still lives and now works on our family farm.

My sister lives there too and is now dating a farmer of her own.

And I married a farmer and moved to his actual working farm.

The farmer remains in our hearts and so does our love for the land and our farm

because that's "just part of it".

I am grateful every day for our farmers and their farms.

I am grateful for the opportunity to have loved more than one farmer in my life--

my husband who loves to check his fields,

and my dad who loved to check his and walk the land where he lived, worked and died.

This Thanksgiving, appreciate the actual working farms and the farmers 

who sacrificed to provide food for your table.

Give thanks for the heaven below you, the heaven above you 

and those watching over you.

Unspoken Lesson from the Farmer: Take 'Er Easy & Give Thanks

  He’s been gone for six years this November, but his witty comments and advice pop into my head at random times.  It makes him seem closer, and it makes me so thankful.  Each year as this month approaches, it hits me—that cold air and that cold feeling that I have been running around so fast that I forgot to stop and appreciate it all, to “take ‘er easy”.

Farmers have a lot of lingo that some of us don’t understand, and “take ‘er easy” is one of them.  When I was little, I used to think he was saying “take her greasy” and thought he was such a weirdo.  Once I grew up I realized that he was saying “take ‘er easy”, “take it easy”.  

What he was really saying is “slow down, Katie.” 

 I never fully understood my dad until he was gone after that November night on the farm.  While I always appreciated him and his occupation, I never really slowed down enough to stop and give thanks as much as I should have. 

Just like many of you, I am usually rushing to get to work or home to a million other things to do.  It’s hard to think about others in the hustle and bustle of life and to be thankful for the people that help make our lives a little easier.  Do we stop to slow down to be thankful for the people that pick-up our trash or mow the grass along our roads so we can see?  Do we ever stop and realize we have the safest, most abundant food supply in the world?  We can get bananas and tomatoes any time of year, but most people don’t understand how they got to our grocery stores or kitchen tables.  

As a farmer’s daughter, I always give thanks for the food on our table.  But sometimes I forget to give thanks for the people that brought it to us and the safety God gave them to do so.  We sometimes are so concentrated on the “what” that we forget about the “who”.  It takes more than a tractor to farm.  It takes hard work, determination, patience with the weather, and knowledge of seed varieties, insects, diseases, soils, crop protection options, weed control and more.  And this doesn’t include the animals that farmers may be caring for in their pastures.  Farmers from around the world are the “who” we need to thank for that food on our table and the variety of options we have for our families.  

Fall is in full swing and the holidays are just around the corner.

This November, take a minute to slow down and be thankful.  Tell someone you are thankful for not only what they do, but for who they are because your life is better, safer or more productive and blessed because of them.  I’m really hoping to “take ‘er easy” as I give thanks for my dad and all that farmer lingo that teaches me to slow down. 

Dodging Cow Pies

 I drive to and from the city each day and hear lots of sounds.  

But nothing is like the sound of a combine humming behind our house.

Yesterday, I came home to the hum of 3 different combines coming from three different directions, and I embraced the sounds while they lasted.

While there is so much to embrace during the harvest, there is a lot to dodge.

I dodge a lot of cow pies on our lane while I take walks.

They seem to not care if you step in them, but they do care that I am in their way.

I dodge my inner caregiver by making countless sandwiches.

I dodge my anxiety about safety for my husband and the other farmers while drinking lots of wine.

I dodge the fact that this is not the time of  year to make "honey do" lists.

I try, really try, to dodge long conversations and updates about my day while I deliver dinner and when he comes home really late.

I dodge the fact that this has been the only place I have seen my husband in a week.

But I embrace the beautiful sunsets we can watch together even if it's for 30 seconds.

When you're married to a farmer, you have to embrace the chores that you usually try to dodge. 

For me, that would be taking the trash to the farm, feeding the dog, and mowing the grass.

I have to dodge the tall grass that is finally growing around my new walkway, finally.  Because really I am still trying to dodge not getting on the lawn mower.

But I get to embrace 10 minutes here and there when the farmer calls and says, "get your camera, we're headed to the pasture."  We took a few moments this harvest to feed the cows some buckets full of immature soybean pods that weren't ready for harvest.

I try to dodge laundry by going to fancy parties at our Indiana State Museum and celebrating our Indiana history.  What's great about our history, is that it always includes farmers and agriculture.

When I arrive home I try to dodge the boys from seeing me taking photos.

When I am in the city, I don't dodge from telling our story about the farm, agriculture and harvest.

In fact last week as I sat in the city at a dinner while my farmer sat in a tractor, I embraced conversations about GMOs, antibiotics in livestock and the fluctuating grain market.

While I don't get to ride along in the tractors and trucks often, I never dodge opportunities to embrace our farm life and from educating people about agriculture.

And while the cow pies on my walks are getting harder to see as the sun sets earlier, 

I have embraced the fact that I might step in one.  

It's "just part of it" as dad would say.  

So I just go along and step in them so I can embrace the sounds of the farm as I watch the beautiful sunsets.

The Harvest Widow

Last night I sat down after making 7 brown bag dinners, drank some wine and prayed that he would come home safe.  And I was thinking about all the other women who are in the fields or at home waiting on their farmers too--

The Harvest Widows.

I'm also thinking of my mom, the farm widow.

Harvest is the most difficult time for many of us on the farm.

I wrote this article in Farm Indiana in honor of them and said many prayers this fall for them, 

The Harvest Widows.

***

My favorite season is fall with the crisp air, crackle of a campfire and crunch of the leaves beneath my feet.  Every year the trees surprise me with their bright, vibrant colors and they remind me to enjoy the moment and breathe that fresh, crisp air while it lasts.

October is the month when fall becomes real, when the favorite fall things become part of our daily lives.  For some of us, the anxiety, rush of emotions and longing to see our significant other are more prevalent and real during this fall month more than other times of the year.  The some of us would be 

The Harvest Widows.

As you read this, there are probably farm wives out there preparing themselves for a long day, night or week ahead without seeing their farmer husbands very much.  There are some of us that make what seems like endless meals to take to the field.  Some of us haul our farmers from one field to the next and others help in the fields right alongside their husbands.  We always make sure there is enough coffee or energy drinks around this time of year and plenty of wine for ourselves.  Our endless loads of laundry and washers fullof farm treasures don’t deter us from supporting our farmers.  And we won’t truly sleep until we know they are home safe, sleeping beside us while we watch them lying awake with our anxiety about what the next day may bring. 

I take pride in my role as a Harvest Widow because I married a man who is working the land to produce food for others and to sustain a family farm for generations to come.  Working the land is a privilege not many of us have and the farmer takes care of it for his family and yours. 

While I talk about being a Harvest Widow to try and explain to people what real life entails being married to a farmer during the fall months, I forget that my mother is a widow who actually lost her farmer during harvest. 

 The air was crisp that night and I was on my way to a campfire when the call came about my dad.  I don’t remember the leaves beneath my feet cracking as I raced across the barn lot and yards that night, but I know they were there.  For some reason, the leaves every fall since that day have been more beautiful and colorful than the last, probably a sign from my dad to slow down and take a moment to enjoy them. 

Each year when fall harvest approaches, I say a pray for all of the farmers and their safety.  I even say a prayer for those that don’t work in agriculture but drive alongside tractors and combines on the road because it can be dangerous so please, be careful out there.  But my thoughts and prayers always include the harvest widows, the women that support and care for the farmers, and the women who have lost their farmers.  I’ll be thinking about them a lot this month as I sit outside drinking my wine listening to the combine’s hum in the distance and taking a moment to watch the leaves turn colors.