Helping Hands

The other night, Matt was able to spend an evening with my Dad at the local farmers' convention. It consisted mostly of eating steak and golfing, but it was also a chance for Matt to meet some of the people in our community who live this agrarian lifestyle we are considering. There were agronomists, weathered and experienced farmers and ranchers, newbies who are just getting their feet wet (though Matt wouldn't consider himself even at that level yet), and grain elevator operators, among others. The talk revolved around crop conditions, prices, the drought, the latest chemical and seed innovations, and the quality of the steaks being served (We're farmers here, but we're also Germans, who like a good meal.). Initially, when I asked him about his night, Matt said that it went just fine, but when I pressed him for clarification, he said that it was interesting to see how many other farmers live in this area. And that's a solid observation.

In many ways, the life of a farmer is fairly solitary. Rural farms can be remote, visits limited to dealerships, repair shops, and the grocery store. But gatherings like these underline the fact that although we hear regularly in the news that smaller family farms are being abandoned at an alarming rate, many farmers still plod ahead, working with the economy's ups and downs, figuring out new ways to not just maintain a lifestyle but expand it. They still have pride in their work, knowing their occupation is necessary and good. And in my experience, most still have an optimistic streak: things will get better, prices will go up, kids will return to farm, and small towns won't disappear.

But the one thing that really stands out to me is the attitude most farmers have toward other farmers, especially those who are trying to get into farming. Rather than viewing these young bucks (or does) as competition or nuisances, they view them as colleagues who need all the breaks they can get. Matt's been overwhelmingly encouraged since he first mentioned our plan to others, and none are more excited than our local farmers. This career is one of helping.

My dad would never tell you this, but he fully embodied this helpful spirit yesterday. The kids and I went out to check crops with him, and on the way back, we stopped by one of my dad's pastures that had been baled. Men were working with tractors, stacking the bales onto the stack movers, and we were flagged down by the owner (a young man, not much older than me). He trotted over to us, and we made small talk about the hay for a while, as farmers do. Then, he looked my dad in the eye and said, "You know, I really appreciate that you let me bale all this. I would have had to sell my cattle otherwise; I couldn't have fed them. It's a big deal." In his modest way, my dad made light of it, saying, "I was just glad someone could use it and saved us the work." However, the point had been made: farmers help farmers.

That makes me one very proud daughter, and one very optimistic wife.

Freedom!

It's been a long day at the farm, and we are all wiped out...except the kids, of course, who could likely run all night (again). Where DO they get that constant, bright-eyed internal combustion? Even with a solid shot of espresso under my belt, I can't maintain it!

Part of the fatigue is due to the potty training regimen we've got going. Jonathan's actually picked it up remarkably quickly, using the regular toilet throughout the day appropriately (with the one exception of the time he stood in the toilet and did a little water-dance...). However, I still try to run him to the bathroom about every ten to twenty minutes to avoid accidents, and that just makes it hard to get much done, especially on this, my first day of online teaching.

Folks, if you are potty trained, give your mom/pop/nanny/whoever trained you a call and thank that person from the bottom of your bladder.

The perk of all this, though, is getting to see a little boy running around in the cutest, tiniest undies ever. See?

One of the major advantages of living in the middle of nowhere, we have found, is that it doesn't really matter what you wear...or don't wear. Below, Jonathan is modeling the "I'm dressed for bed but still want to play outside" look that you've probably seen on the Paris runways this fall.

Grace is equally fashionable. Here, she's wearing a nightgown UNDER a slip. Reason: I asked her to put on some pants if she wanted to play outside before bed. She came downstairs in this gauzy number and said, "I couldn't find my jeans, but I thought this probably would work." Close.

But really, the only witnesses are, ummm, not too particular about attire...

This just adds to the laid-back environment of the farm: no need to dress to impress. It's a reprieve I appreciate within a society driven by the urge to get more, more, more and to look hot, hotter, hottest while doing it. 

Instead, we take our pajama/boot/slip/tennis shod-children on a sunset walk. We notice that in one direction, we get orange, pink, purple-blue skies fading into the dusk, the sun becoming a slip of copper, while in the other...

...we watch the moon sail upward, coaxing us to put off sleep just a few minutes longer so that we can take in the first stars and the evening smells of fresh-mown hay and cooling prairie grasses. Turning back, we hear the cows lowing as they regroup by the barn for the evening, and coyotes yipping in the south fields. Spencer can't help but bay back; the freedom has engulfed him, too.

Goodnight, friends!

Mixing our Work and Play

It's been very hot here lately. We've been getting temps in the 90s...in the shade. Phew. However, as we all know, even in the heat, the work goes on. At this point, farmers in this area have finished harvesting small grain (grains like wheat, barley, oats, etc.). The early planting season paired with these very hot, dry conditions have bumped up harvest in general. Now, we are watching as the soybeans show signs of heat distress, the corn shrivels and turns brown at the edges of the fields, and the sunflowers hang their great heads. This large grain harvest won't likely start until the end of September, but in the meantime, we pray for rain. Over the past week, Matt's been removing old fences, as well as emptying bins--work that reminds me to be thankful as I do my job in the comfort of an air-conditioned house. The kids, however, are putting all this heat to good use, dragging hoses and the inflatable pool across the lawn as the sun changes position.


Summertime is about over for the school-aged, but don't tell my kiddos!

 They won't believe it, anyway. See how Jonathan looks at me when I tell him we should move into the shade for a bit? Utter (adorable) skepticism.

Even Spencer gets into the action! And see that bare child? It's another force of the farm; clothing seems to drop off this little guy as fast as I can replace it! Futility, I tell you.

Farm Quiz: Can anyone name this structure? It was one of my favorite spots growing up, and the site of countless houses, forts, dog/bird/cat pens, etc. At one point, I also started a rather large fire in the center and roasted a hot dog. Tasted like junk, probably because I used hay as fuel. Or maybe that's the bitter taste of remorse I'm remembering, as I got into pretty serious trouble for starting a fire in a dry season! Anyway, I digress.

Something we enjoy about our current situation is that Matt has lunch and supper with us each day. Now, this won't be the norm during harvest, but we're enjoying it now! Jonathan snuggled into Daddy for a little man-to-man chat about Brrmm Brrmms.

This is one of the wonderful things about life on a farm: working alongside one's children. Here, it's as simple as getting to ride along on the mower for a brief stint. It made Grace's day to help her Pa, and he got some valuable one-on-one with his favorite little girl.

If you have to work, this is one pretty wonderful way to do it!

After the outside labor is finished, there is always more to be done indoors. The kids started in on dishes as soon as I mentioned naptime; they are so dedicated! (P.S.--Thanks, Mom, for completely and willingly surrendering your sunroom to your grandkids. Their new playroom is the lovliest spot in the house!)

An Outing

Well, it happened: I made a trip back into civilization, meaning a place that sells Nutella (you know; the stuff great countries are built upon). I'd held out for a solid 1.78 weeks, but the larder was bare, and we needed supplies.

OK, it's packed to overflowing. But I needed, NEEDED a cinnamon dolce latte, and by golly, I got one!

However, I found complete justification for my trip, without the Nutella and coffee thingies, and here's why: we needed parts. When you live on a remote farm, things break much more often (say, thirty or one million times more often) than if you'd live very close to repair shops and machine dealerships. It's something to do with Murphy's Law and Evil Machinery Collaboration. Anyway, just as I was packing the kids into the car, feeling slightly sheepish about the whole trip (for Nutella/Coffee/TargetTherapy), my dad handed me a slip of paper with directions to a dealership. Viola! Trip and conscience saved.

It was a good day. See?

How about the rest of you? Do you need a day of shopping to clear your mind every now and then? Or every now and now? Even if you know full well that packing your kids into a car, heading to a store, and striving to keep your sanity while preventing random things from being thrown into your cart as you attempt to stick to that well-crafted shopping list will likely leave you more frazzled then when you started?

I have a friend who once told me about these sorts of struggles. I never have these problems, myself.

Photos of the Pharm, Phase One (Clever title, courtesy of Matt.)





My parents' home in SD. That porch is one of my favorite spots in the world.

  


Matt, after a day of pulling fence posts. See the white residue on his shirt? Yep. That's dried salt/sweat. He's laughing because he's tried to give the kids a hug at least twice...and they keep running away, shrieking.





The tiny figure in the middle is Spencer, the now-feral beagle, who has worn his lips and nose to raw nubbins with all the sniffing and tracking of rabbits. He now knows his true purpose in life, and it starts at dawn and ends with a total collapse at dusk. I wish you could see his perma-grin.

 


Grace, helping me water Grandma's flowers. She fits right in with all the blooms, don't you think?




Grace wanted to take a photo of the two of us. "Say 'I'm sitting on a bug,' Jonnie!" she told him. He wasn't so sure about that.





Happy girls...

 






...and silly, too!

  



Every child who has ever visited a farm likely has an in-the-tire shot. Classic stuff! Here, they are in the tire of a J.D. combine.




I now know that boys must climb. It's a force of nature. Thank goodness there are fences here...lots and lots of fences.




They must also drive EVERYTHING at least twice before you can remove them, usually screaming, from behind the wheel. Again, we've come to the right place.





Grace is a very smart big sister. Therefore, she lets Jonathan have the main seat, while she rides in the buddy seat. Nobody gets hurt, and everyone goes home happy.

Very, very happy!



Some background:

Many of you have asked a very reasonable question in the past month: what prompted our move to SD? Here is a bit of an answer.

When Matt and I met, we had opposite views on a few things, as many couples do. He was a lover of all things city, and I have always felt most at home in the country. In this, we are products of our childhoods. However, he's always enjoyed spending time in the outdoors, and he definitely agreed that raising children in a rural setting appealed to him.

When we moved and bought our first home, we tried to find a spot that was near family (really near, as it turned out!), and a place that was a compromise of environments: rural feel with urban advantages. We love our home, our town, and the friends and family we've shared our life with in the past years, so this venture isn't at all an escape from that--and it's important to note that we are still very much in the decision phase, and will be for likely another year or more. Rather, we are test-driving farm life for a few different reasons.

1. We love the solitude of the country. It's true that the area in which my family farms has a LOT of solitude (Pizza delivery? Two hours away. Sorry.), enough to make it unappealing to many, but there is a freedom and peace that comes with this remote environment. It's, of course, my childhood home, but even if it weren't, my spirit is drawn to the quietness of this life and place, something Matt echoes.

2. We respect family farmers. This is hard work, folks--physically, mentally, and emotionally. Matt came in after his first day and said, "Whew. I'm totally beat. And I didn't even do any true farm work yet!" It's not all planting and harvesting in a comfy machine; the real work of a farm is often done behind a desk, under machinery, inside a bin, and on foot. A few days ago, the guys worked inside a bin shoveling barley (itch, itch!). Today, Matt's pulling two miles of old fencing out. Those of you who have done this know that he'll be sore tonight in places he didn't think a person could get sore! Family farmers have always been important threads of this nation's cloth, and we would feel pretty honored to be a part of that tradition.

3. We think our children would flourish in the country. Even if we stayed put in MN, we have always talked about finding a rural home. We are big proponents of letting children spend as much time as possible in the great outdoors, and after a short week of watching this in action, we see fruition: When I asked Grace if she'd like me to take her bike out for her, she shook her head, grabbed an apple, and ran out the back door, calling, "Sorry, Mama! I'm WAY too busy right now!" This is good stuff.

4. We want to learn more about this family tradition and occupation. I grew up on this farm, from birth until I left for college, but it would be an overstatement to say that I really understand farming. I can identify all major pieces of equipment, all crops and animals in this area of the country, and even most native plants, grasses, and weeds. I've done my share of farm chores (though the fact that we didn't have a large variety of farm animals growing up made this less of an undertaking than it could have been--my parents, farm kids themselves, were quick to remind me of this when I started complaining!). However, I don't have the slightest idea what it takes to make a farm truly successful--something my dad, his dad, and his grandfather certainly understood. Matt grew up having little contact with farming, so he feels like he has a major learning curve here, but the truth is that we both are getting an education. And farming changes, so the things I once knew may not necessarily be applicable anymore.

5. We feel like this is a good life, worth pursuing. Our children would be able to be near us, working side-by-side with us for a large portion of their childhoods. They would have direct contact with the food they eat, with animals, and with the outdoors--all things we value. They would be surrounded (as always!) by several generations of family who love them and want to help them grow into responsible, respectful, caring individuals. In addition, Matt and I could be partners in this career, and I could have the flexibility to be home with our family.

It's worth noting that this isn't a case of occupational ADD. Matt has really enjoyed his time working as a nurse, and he feels that it could be a fulfilling career. Because of this, he will continue with his BSN this fall, taking courses online; he intends to finish this degree, regardless of our decision. This fall, he doesn't have many clinicals, so this made his schedule this semester more flexible than others. Matt did take a three-month leave of absence from his position at the hospital to make this all work, but we've been grateful that the administration there has been supportive of our venture. As I write this, I'm also working on preparing my courses for the fall term, where I'll have a full load again teaching college English courses online. In short, my career hasn't even had a hiccup through this move. How great is that? In our world, online education has made a huge difference! Finally, our kiddos aren't in school yet (we're one tiny year away!), so that also made this move logical at this time. Soon, we may not have quite as much flexibility.

So, that's the in-a-nutshell story of why we are trying our hands at farming at this time. One week in, we're still glad we're here...and Mom and Dad haven't kicked our circus out. That's a good sign!

How'd we get here?

If you would have asked me one year ago today if we'd pack up and head to South Dakota to farm with my parents for three months, I would have handed you a 5-gallon bucket of tomatoes, some tongs, and told you, "Umm...no. Now, stop being ridiculous and blanche, baby, blanche."

Because, after all, canning huge quantities of produce is entirely NOT what one does on the farm, right?

Really, we should have seen signs of this coming long ago. Here are the hard facts:

1. Matt has a hunting dog that tracks pheasants better than I track fresh espresso. (On a related note, the pheasant-to-coffee-shop-ratio here is one gazillion to zero. See extreme lamentations in subsequent posts, when the full caffeine addiction subsides; I'm just too shaky to discuss it now.)

2. I consistently cook for thirty. I can't help it--one cup of flour or ten, the end result is the same. I need a huge family. Or a threshing crew.

3. Our kiddos have always made accurate animal noises. Some enunciate "oink" when they are asked what a pig says. Not ours--a true squeal/grunt combo is what you'll get. Same with goats, horses...the whole barnyard.

4. When I replanted much of our garden, I chose all prairie flowers. I didn't give it much thought at the time; those black-eyed susans and purple coneflowers just looked right.

5. Grace has a mild obsession with Black Beauty, and all "brave, bold horses." (The same goes for the color pink, princesses, and glitter. We're not sure where those last three will fit in, but that first one now has some potential.)

6. We've been getting the AgriSource catalog for about a year. It had everything to do with Matt's brewing hobby (something about dairy farms using conical fermenters), but the side effect is that he's bulked up on his basic farm terminology. Booyah.

In short, though we have been a fairly urban family the past decade (shout-out to Trader Joe's here), the transition from city to country may actually be more second-nature than we had assumed!

For our anxious family and friends, our move went quite smoothly. It's not necessarily easy to fit three months' living into one car and one minivan (especially when that three months includes two dogs, a huge kennel, and one hundred pounds of dog food), but we made it work. We found ourselves packing erratically, though, as if we were really leaving for good:

"Do you think I should take my guitar?"
"You haven't played it in eight years. I'm gonna go with 'no.'"
"Really?"
"Really. You know, I think I'm going to throw in my black dress."
"The one you wore on our cruise six years ago? Does it fit you?"
"Ummm...I'll just leave it here." (*Stomp, stomp, stomp.*)

In the end, we likely forgot some key things (those of you trying to call me: my cell phone charger is among those key things), but that just gives us an excuse to visit soon!