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July 18 County Fair, Skunks in the Barnyard, and other musingsThe county fair takes place this week. Right across the street from my office. We love that because the local hospital auxillary club has a food booth. They make very good beef-burgers and taco salads which is so welcomed. This little town has two places to eat, so we get a little tired of our choices. But best of all, they have an unbelievable selection of home-made pies. Some of the guys have pie during each break as well as for lunch. Mmmm.
The fair always starts with a parade. I think this year the kids got more candy from the parade than they usually do at Halloween! After the parade we walked through the exhibits. I was looking at the craft and art exhibit when this overwhelming feeling of 'home' came over me. You know, there were kids everywhere. Every age and they were all having a good time. Adults were gathered in groups discussing the weather, politics, whatever adults talk about. It was all just so comfortable. No one was worried about losing sight of their kids. The kids were being kids. It was fun. Old-fashioned fun.
Later, as I was leaving the bucket calf building one of 9's friends came running up. They couldn't find their little one who is almost three. 9 and I volunteered to walk through the Midway looking for him while they searched the barns. We were concerned, but you know, there was no panic. We walked around through all the rides and games making our way back to our starting point. There was the dad, "yeah we found him. He'd gone up to the craft building." Now I know this is making some of you shake your heads. He had to walk through the busy carnival midway, cross a street and walk through many local booths to get into a building that was absolutely packed with people. And he was safe. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that someone had held his hand, helped him cross the street. I'm sure others acknowledged him, pointing to the last spot they had seen a family member. This is life in my town, my corner of the world. Midwest family values are still alive and well.
Softball season is over. This is almost a deathknell to summer. 9's team lost all but one game and were eliminated the first day of tournament - but, honestly, it was a relief - it was about 60 miles from home and it seemed like I had to leave work in the middle of the day to get her there on time. 14's team was undefeated this year, which makes for some exciting games! She played center field most of the games, but the last several - and during the tourney - she played first base. She's tall and it's amazing to watch her stretch out to snag those sometimes wild throws to first. I never think I have much of a competitive spirit (unless its when I'm arguing with someone . . .) until we get in a tight game. It makes me so uptight! Anyway, it was a great season!
The other night I had the privilege of spending an hour or two at home - ALONE. These times are precious to me, I need, crave solitary time and summertime does not lend itself to that need very well. I was sitting in the living room reading about two weeks worth of newspapers when Samsom (my little Yorkie who thinks he is the perfect farm dog) went nuts, running from me to the window barking like mad. I got up to see what had him so shook and saw a sight I'd never seen before. Mama and six little skunks were scurrying as fast as they could go across the barnyard, tails straight up in the air. I grabbed my camera and ran to the door. Thank goodness for built-in zoom lenses! I wasn't getting any close than my back door . . . It was a precious sight, though! I love country living.
The very next evening 9, 14 and I were waiting for hubby to get home so we could leave for a game when it started sprinkling. Very soon after this it started pouring rain. We heard a loud noise, 14 and 9 came running from their respective rooms yelling about lightning. We have (had) a very large, very old silver maple tree on the west side of the house. I'm not convinced there was any lightning as I didn't hear it hit, nor was there any thunder, but something knocked the middle out of that tree. Right onto my tomato patch! We had picked our first three tomatoes and there were so many that would have been ready in two or three days. And there was this great tree lying right in the middle of it . . . sigh. It fell right on our propane tank but thankfully it doesn't look like it damaged anything there. Last year a branch fell during a storm into our watermelon patch, ruining 4 big melons hubby had been nurturing .
I'm not complaining, though. (At least not much.) We had over half an inch of rain and none of our neighbors - in any direction - had so much as a drop. Crops are really in distress from the lack of rain here in NorthEast Kansas, so I really do feel blessed.
14, 16, and I leave Sunday morning with our youth group. I somehow ended up in charge of this years Mission Trip. We are travelling to a camp for handicapped children in Colorado to help with some much needed building repair. I'm so looking forward to being in the mountains again, and the kids are very excited. We have some great kids in this part of the country. I think adults forget to appreciate our youth. It's easy to blame them all for the actions of a few.
I have learned over the years you get what you expect. I wouldn't trade these kids for any others. They are respectful, generous, dependable, and helpful to a fault.
Life is good. -cindy June 21 State of the Farm, Summer 2007Coming home last night from 14s volleyball game the answer to disappearing kittens became all too clear . . .
Farm cats have a pretty tough life. Unlike many, we do feed our cats regularly and they still do a terrific job of controlling the rodent population around the grain bins and in the barns. Springtime is always a favorite time for the kids because of the new kittens. There's just nothing as fun as patiently following (at a good distance) a half-wild mama cat so she will lead you to her carefully hidden nest of babies. And pulling handfuls of kittens out from between hay bales is sure to lead to squeals of delight! This year we have mostly blacks and tabbies, a few solid greys, and it's a pretty even mix of long and short-haired. The nests we find at just the right time - mama knows they're old enough to take handling so she doesn't hide them again - always end up tame enough they find their way to the house and end up living in the garage. I'd guess right now our kitty population is about 7 adults and probably about 12 kittens.
About a week ago 9 came running out to the car to meet me as I arrived home from work. "Mom, Pandy's eating the kittens! They're all gone and there's one in the garage with half it's head gone!" Perfect end to a 'perfect' day . . . ( In the days since, all but a couple of the kittens have been spotted, still in and around the garage.)
Pandy is my son's Rottweiler. A graduation gift from his then girlfriend. Pandy (short for Pandora) is 11 years old, the gentlest 'kid' dog ever. She has had puppies twice and is a devoted, if rather, bumbling mother. Her last litter of pups was born probably about 5 years ago and she was completely lost when we gave her last baby away. Ever since she has claimed every critter she has come across as her own. If she can't find a critter she adopts rubber boots, tennis shoes left on the step to dry, and even on occasion the abandoned sandal that finds itself in the ditch nearby. All this to say I had a hard time believing Pandy had resorted to killing tiny little kittens!
The night before, as I was driving home from a late ballgame I noticed an odd shape lying in the road close to our outbuildings. I swerved, then slammed on the brakes as I recognized the shape. As the car stopped a somewhat irritated owl lifted off the electrical post across the road and flew off. There, in the road, not knowing what to do for sure, lay a tiny gray kitten flattened out as much as possible against the gravel. 14 jumped out to 'rescue' it. (Now, I don't know how many of you have ever tried to hold onto a wild kitten, let alone a scared-half-to-death wild kitten, but this is no feat for the light of heart!) I told the kids the owl or perhaps one of the local hawks was probably responsible for the missing kittens, although I silently dismissed that as they would not leave a carcass in the garage.
So, back to last night. As I turned into the drive I noticed something unusual amongst the usual scattering of cats and kittens running from the path of the car. Ah ha! This larger than a cat creature was lumbering clumsily - right toward the garage. I cut in at an angle wishing I was brave (and heartless) enough to run over it but instead, managed to steer it in the direction of the barn or open pasture. "There's what killed your kitty!" I exclaimed to 9.
There just is nothing pretty or cute about opossums. Their fur is coarse, an ugly grayish white. They always look like they've been dragging through the mud. Round fat bodies carried by skinny legs and wiry pink feet. That famous oposable pink tail raised high in the air. Possums carry a nasty attitude. They are fierce yet incredibly stupid and they move slow. Yep, this gross, obviously well-fed thing lumbering across my barnyard was feasting on our sweet little baby kittens! I'm sure of it. We're gonna have to have grandpa go on patrol in the evenings while we're at games. We don't have guns, but he does. And that's what they're for. It's not safe having possums living that close to the house, for the cats OR the kids!
Elsewhile on the farm . . .
It's been a beautiful late spring! We had a very late hard freeze so won't get any fruit from the orchard (apricots, apples,pears) nor will there be any wild plums for the kids to feast on or make into jelly. But we have had rain! Enough to cause some pretty good flooding about a month ago. This has made things grow like mad. Everything is the most luscious green you can imagine! As we sat in the porchswing last night discussing the game - and the possum - the air was heavy with the smell of corn growing. A wonderful sweet smell! We just closed our eyes, swung back and forth, and breathed deep.
Sitting outside, thankful it's still warm enough there isn't much mosquito activity, watching the merry twinkling of 'lightning bugs' is such a perfect way to end a day.
Having the rains we've had also brings out another wild 'critter' we don't see on an everyday basis. Snapping turtles. Dangling a small stick in front of them is all we ever have to do to teach the kids to let them be. Snappers are amazingly fast - and strong! Even the tiny ones. Farm kids always seem to have an affinity for animals and they want to cuddle and nurture everything they see. But sometimes that changes as they mature. It is a real sore spot with me to see the carcasses of snapping turtles beside the roads and highways. Turtles have huge lifespans (I know, they are really tortoises. Humor me.) and you really only see them when there's been a lot of rain. They head to high, dry ground. That usually means crossing a road. Now, IMHO, turtles don't really move all that slow. True, it's kind of hard to be out-run by one, but for the load they carry and their relative size, they can cover a fair amount of territory in a pretty short amount of time. So why is it so hard for people to avoid them on the roadway? I've carefully maneuvered around them time and again only to watch in my rearview mirror as the next guy (almost always in a pickup) goes out of his way to run right over the top of it. Some of the turtles I've seen smashed into the roadbed are huge. You know they are more than fifty years old! I have a hard time dealing with such complete disrespect for life. One of these days . . .
I haven't said anything about the end of the school year, and I did want to share something about that. 14 graduated from 8th grade this year. Our school district has a "Recognition Night" for this. The kid's accomplishments are acknowledged and they get to walk across the platform to receive their 8th grade certificate. 14 has been an honor student as well as active in all the sports so her name was mentioned many times. Then the principal took the podium and started defining the next award. I only remember some of the list: Always shows respect for country, for the teachers, the staff, fellow students. Does everything possible to make others comfortable. Volunteers willingly. Is helpful to all those near by. The first to make new students feel welcomed. Always polite. Always accountable. This person is selected by all staff: teachers, office, kitchen, janitorial, etc. He went on and on as I was thinking, wow, this kid has to be just about perfect. Yep, "This year's Citizenship Award recipient is . . ." 14! The last award of the evening. 16 looked at me, "Oh, gees, mom, Don't tell me you're crying!" I'm a proud mom, she is just about perfect. And yes, even writing this, I'm crying again. Life is good. -cindy February 23 The Country Mouse and the City MouseI have this 'discussion' (read: argument) with my little brother on a regular basis. Thought I would put it into hard words.
Reasons to live in the City
Choices in public and private education
Always a new movie playing somewhere
Concerts - popular groups on tour, choirs, orchestras
Theatre
Museums
Places to buy clothing OTHER than Walmart
More than one grocery store so you can compare prices
If you run out of an ingredient while cooking it only takes a couple of minutes to run get some more
Reasons to live in the Country
If I'm not dressed and need to run out to the clothesline or mailbox - who cares
My kids don't need to keep track of house keys - the doors are never locked
Kids can play in the street except during planting time and harvest
I can yell at my husband to my hearts content and the neighbors will never hear
If I forget my checkbook at the grocery store (or any other store) it's okay, I can pay when I come in next week
The stars at night - I can see the Milky Way
Summer nights at the pond
Community band concerts on the town square
Ice cream social's with home-made ice cream
Coyotes howling at the moon, sounding like they are right outside your door
Going for walks and surprising mama and baby deer out for their walk too
Finding a tree frog climbing up the kitchen window sending your girls into giggling fits
Making eye contact with the local red fox as you pass by
The smell of Spring enveloping you when you walk out the door
That happens in Summer, Fall, and Winter as well
The views from every window in my home
Sending your kids outdoors to play and not having to watch them every second
Feeling like you have the whole world to 'play pretend' in
The summer concerts at my home that are a gift from the world just to me - crickets, locusts, frogs, birds, a cacaphony of voices blending into the most beautiful of songs
It's been a beautiful week with warm temperatures. The snow is almost all melted and I find myself longing for Spring. I'm tired of brown, brown trees, brown fields, brown mud everywhere. I spotted my first Robin a few days ago so am really feeling the promise of blooming flowers, green grass, and morning birdsong. Life is GRAND! -cindy November 02 HarvestFarmer,
It's who I am.
Sun-up to sun-down in the field
Satisfied.
A year's labor come to fruition
Grain
Filling the combine bin
flowing into the gravity wagons
the truck.
Hours in the field
riding back and forth
So much time to think.
I think back to the beginning
of our marriage, our family.
How things have changed.
How things have remained.
The quote on the sign at the highway reads
"One American farmer feeds 124 people a day,
plus his family."
Does anyone care?
I was proud of that once.
Now I fight bitterness.
Once, I counted on my chidlren
to drive the wagon and the truck
back and forth (they were so young,
but so proud to help)
from the field to the farm
where I could depend on my wife
to stop what she was doing
and dump the grain.
Dangerous equipment - it was a worry
Yet such satisfaction
to work together. Family ties, strong.
Now I think, does anyone care?
Is my family resentful?
My wife was the first to leave
to seek work in town.
I fought back fears
-does she find me inadequate-
How it stung to need help
Supporting my family.
Generations before grew up strong
and independent
Farming.
We survived,
separated,
something we'd never experienced.
Sometimes feeling abandoned.
She had friends I didn't know,
experiences I hadn't shared.
I knew fear. Was she still happy with me?
How could I do it all without her here?
Then another blow.
Prices plunging, years without profit.
My turn to leave.
Such sorrow losing the lifestyle
we had worked so hard to sustain.
Yet, thankfulness for marketable skill,
for a work ethic carried through my grandfather
and his grandfather.
Life is not as I had imagined it
at this stage of our lives.
So much stress.
I sit in the cab of this combine
remembering the pride I felt
when this land was first ours.
And it creeps in - how am I going
To finish the jobs I've promised
To comfort my wife as she walks through the door
Exhausted from her work
Facing even more at home.
To instill the love of the land
To my children
to my grandchildren.
Will they ever know the peacefulness
of an afternoon picnic in the field
of introducing a newborn calf to the pasture
of getting off the tractor in the middle of the day
and fishing in the pond for a while
of watching the sky change while the sun sets
then the awe of the rising moon
huge and orange on the horizon?
Life keeps moving on.
And sitting here riding across the cornfield
I know it will.
We've adapted
We're still a family.
We are happy
just different.
You don't always get to choose
where your path turns.
But even here where I am, where we are now
At the end of this row
I know I will find a stalk
filled with yellow sunflowers
watching the sky.
And I know that, just like they,
I will be back here in this field
Next spring.
It's who I am.
Who we are, my family.
Farmers.
January 18 Life on the Farm - Part 4 WinterI really am amazed that people have expressed interest in this little series! Thanks for all of your comments and questions. As I've said, family farms are an endangered species and I really feel we as a nation are unknowingly losing a national treasure.
Harvest usually ends sometime in November, depending, of course, on the weather. If it has been a particularly wet or cold and snowy fall some fields may not get harvested until January or February. Tensions usually run high during this time. We rise very early to chore because as soon as the dew is dry all hands need to be ready to go to the field. We usually have one person driving the combine, one driving the grain truck or tractor with the gravity wagon, and one or two at the homestead to unload the grain into the bins. Work lasts all day. Often we will pack a lunch and all drive out to the field and eat together, then start in again. Harvest will continue until nightfall. It falls upon the kids and whoever has unloading duty to take care of the evening chores and supper will wait until all are finished for the day. It's not unusual to put in 16 to 18 hours a day during this time.
By the time winter arrives we are ready for a break! These months are spent seeing that our livestock are well provided and checking over all the equipment, repairing and replacing as necessary so everything will be ready come spring.
Typically, chores will begin as soon as breakfast is finished. Grinding feed, taking it to the cattle. As they feed you look them all over, counting silently to see all are accounted for, then make sure water is available. Often this means taking an ax and breaking through the ice on the pond. We also have an old wood-burning tank heater in the pasture near the well, so that has to be checked and refilled.
There's time for family fun and if there is snow on the ground you can be sure as soon as the kids get off the bus there will be the request to go "sledding"! Either they will convince dad (he's an easy touch for his girls!) to tie all the sleds behind the four-wheeler and go out into the fields and onto the dirt roads or they will walk down to one of the ponds and climb up the dam, slide down the back side, climb back up ad infinitum.
We live on an East/West road so if we get much snow at all and any wind whatsoever we are "drifted in". It usually takes the snow plows two days to get to our roads. This means no one comes in, no one gets out. Even the mailman has to leave our mail with the nearest North/South neighbor. These have to be my favorite days. We girls stay in bed and read while dad goes out and chores (the cattle still have to be fed and watered, doesn't matter how cold it is or how deep the snow gets). We play games, put puzzles together, sit down at the piano and sing and laugh, make big pots of veggie soup. Mmmm. Life doesn't get any better!
I love blizzards. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees, around the house (through the windows and doors, brrrr!). The sun behind the clouds, making the snowflakes seem to glow as they race by. The snowdrifts slowly changing form as the wind currents shift. The best part of a blizzard is looking out the window the next morning as the sun shines brightly in a blazing blue sky! The trees, the fences, everything covered with a thick glaze of ice or snow. You can hear the earth in a collective sigh of relief. The little birds sit on the bird-feeder, it's feather's so fluffed out you aren't sure if it's one bird or two. The cats carefully picking their steps between the barn and the house - trying not to step where they will break through the crusted snow and sink in a few inches. The dogs playing like children picking up snow with their noses and throwing it into the air, then trying to catch it with open mouths. The young calves leaving the protection of momma's side and bravely stepping out, breaking into a run, racing each other to the feed bunker and back.
I wonder how the wildlife makes it through these cold spells. The pheasant and quail, the bunnies. The combine and grain carts leave spills throughout the fields and we always leave this for the birds and the deer. Before the "no-till" movement (which is definitely a benefit for both the field and the farmer) the snow didn't lay across the field as much as it ended up in the ditches. This left the spilt grain exposed and easy to find. Now with the stalks left in the field this catches the snow so the wildlife has to work a little harder to find food. I don't know that this is so bad, though. I always feel for the predators. The coyotes, bobcats, foxes, these guys have it tough in the winter. They can't easily hide themselves and hunting isn't an easy job any time of year. These guys can start looking pretty gaunt.
The only thing I really detest during these months are "the coyote hunters". These guys are out early in the morning in their pick'm'up trucks filled with dog crates. They surround a section (1 square mile), then turn the dogs out. They drive back and forth, pulling into driveways, ditches, etc. to turn around and speed off in the opposite direction, talking on their two-way radios all the time. There is usually one standing up leaning out the window with a gun in his hands, yelling and pointing. I think this is a pretty lame excuse for a "hunting sport". They sit in their trucks, their dogs run across your land chasing anything they can find (calves included). If it's muddy their trucks tear up the road so it'll be weeks before you can drive safely down it again. They sit and wait until a coyote being chased by anywhere from 2 to 2dozen dogs finally is so exhausted it runs out into the road where it is immediately shot and killed. Since these guys stay "on the road" they don't have to have permission from the land-owners. Well, I could go on and on and on. But I'm ruining what was a good mood here writing about it so enough said.
All in all, winter on the farm is a time of rest. Time to recover from the rigors of the year past and time to prepare for the year to come. If it has been a year of drought or a year of surplus it suddenly doesn't much matter. We're looking forward to Spring, planting season, time for baby calves. Winter is our time of hope.
Hope for another year on the soil we love. Hope our efforts will be appreciated. Hope.
-cindy November 21 Life on the Farm, Part 3This will end, I promise.
 Every farmers dream was to accumulate enough land that his children could each start farming on enough land to earn a living. This dream began to die during my husband's childhood. While every father would love nothing more than to see his progeny take over the family business, it is also every parent's dream to see their children be more successful than themselves.
My husband is the only one of his family that went from high school and junior college / technical school into farming. His parents have always berated him for that. They discouraged him from farming simply because they just didn't think he could sustain a family. That is heartbreaking to me.
So far our own children have shown little interest in the farm. Although I still have hopes that one of my younger daughters will find the love of the soil and outdoors. It is a hard life, long hours, heavy labor, little pay, and the most amazing self-satisfaction you can imagine.
To answer some questions, we farm just about 250 acres (640 acres equal a square mile). We have a small cow/calf herd and raise mostly corn and soybeans although we do raise a small amount of wheat and oats each year.
There is an abundance of wild-life and it is always a blessing to catch a peek of these amazing creatures. Many farmers have begun to "rent" their land to hunters from cities as far away as Phoenix. This gives them some additional income. We have opted not to allow hunting on our land, letting these animals natural habitat stay as is so they have somewhere to feel safe. Another alternative that is becoming more and more popular are the "visitation farms" (I don't know what the PC term is). These are mainly corn mazes and pumpkin patches locally.
Farmers are adapting to changes, but in my opinion are losing themselves in the process. Farm families basically are very scarce. There are some out there, but more than likely one or both parents are working off the farm. The kids are way too busy to come home after school and have more than a couple of chores to do.
If you have the opportunity get to know a local farmer. They love to talk, love to show off their crops. And if you're lucky they'll trust you enough to show you the thicket where the same doe has given birth to twin fawns the last 4 years, or the nest of just-hatched pheasant. We are stewards of the land - and we take that job seriously.
-c November 17 Life on the Farm, Part 2I really appreciate the comments I have received about farm life. Grass-roots movements are the very heart of this country and I firmly believe that is what it is going to take, but while I am a pretty terrific follower, I have no idea how to lead anything like this. Talking about it is the only way I know.
Several of you have mentioned organic farming. I have belonged to a natural foods cooperative for a good 20 years. There are positives and negatives about organics. It is extremely labor intensive. The number of farmers we have today couldn't begin to fill the need if we were to go 100% organic. The majority of people will not buy organics for two reasons: cost and appearance. It is expensive to cultivate a crop when you are not using a tractor and sprayer. And what you end up with in the end is not nearly as pretty.
One difference between family farms and corporate farms that most people are unaware of is in the use of chemicals. A small farmer applies fertilizer in the winter or early spring before anything is planted, works it into the soil, and lets it act. Then plants his crop. Every day he is out in that field watching. We walk every field, looking for problem areas. If we see an infestation of insects that could threaten the whole field we deal with it then - chemicals are horribly expensive. We don't like paying for them and we don't like using them - they're dangerous! My husband, our chidren, and I have spent hours cutting weeds out of soybeans. It's time spent together that we all both loathed and loved. Loathed because it's hard, dirty work. Early mornings the plants are heavy with dew and stick to you, plus there is no shade so the sun is beating down on you - humid and HOT. Loved because you see so much. My kids have tried to catch thousands of baby bunnies, we've seen fawns trying to keep up with mom, baby foxes and coyotes, butterflies and dragonflies dancing through the fields, my list could go on forever. What I am trying to say is the food supply from family farms has much fewer chemical contaminants than that from corporate farms.
Corporate farms don't have the time to check fields every day, ideal conditions don't exist. They have so much ground to cover and so little time that they have no choice but to be proactive, not reactive when it comes to applying pesticides and herbicides.
So back to my point (nothing like the long way to getting there . . .), education is the best answer I can see. I don't think people for the most part have any idea what has happened to the small, family farms. We are just slowly disappearing. The grocery store shelves are still full, and food is still affordable so why should anyone pay any attention to it. And I don't know many (any) small farmers who want national attention, they are a pretty shy yet very independent group of people. So you reading this and talking about it to other people, a grass roots level approach seems to me the place to start.
I am more than happy to answer questions - although I am far from having answers. I just want people to understand what this country is losing. I want people to care about these people who have sustained so many for generations.
-c November 14 Life on the FarmOne of my nevers (see my profile) was marrying a farmer - NEVER was I going to marry a farmer. I believed all the stereotypical hayseed things I ever heard about them.
Then this sweet, very good-looking guy whom I had waited on a few times at my waitressing job (oh, I was NEVER going to stoop to being a waitress, either . . .) asked me to a concert that I was planning on attending with my best friend (who just happens to be a good-looking guy). I told him he was welcome to come along with us.
The night of the concert he showed up at my door, I was shocked, but pleased. After the concert he came back to my place and we talked forever. The things I saw in my future he saw in his, we wanted the same things in life, materially and spiritually. I think that night we both knew it was going to be a permanent connection.
I visited his / our home a couple of days later and you know, farm life was a perfect fit. For twenty years I worked side by side with my husband. The day before our first son was born I was on a tractor spreading manure across a field. We gardened, I LOVED canning vegetables, making my own tomato sauces, I even canned grape juice. Nothing was so satisfying as walking into my pantry and seeing rows of jars that I had prepared with my own hands. I learned to sew, loved sewing. Made my children's clothing, my clothing, I'll never forget my first undertaking - an wool uneven plaid jacket for my husband. He would still wear it if I hadn't hidden it. I have a flour mill and for years ground my own flour from our own wheat. Made fresh bread every week. My kids were the only kids at school that had to eat sandwiches with home-made bread and how they whined! They would beg me for white bread from the store . . . silly kids.
We were very self-sufficient. If we needed something we sold some pigs, corn, soybeans, wheat, cattle and we paid cash for it. When we bought the farm we live on from his parents we paid it off within 5 years. It was a simple life and so fulfilling.
Then one day we took a few older sows to market. These guys weighed over 500 lbs. 20 of them, and we were offered $100 for the lot of them. $5 each, or about a penny a pound. We brought them home, had them processed locally and sold them to a few relatives and friends for the same price.
Since then we both have taken jobs off the farm. Just to make ends meet. It's been a hard adjustment. After nine years, I can't understand how working moms can keep up with their kids' schedules and keep up with housework and laundry. It just isn't happening with me . . . And my husband and I miss each other. Our marriage has suffered, where we used to spend most every day together, we feel fortunate if we see each other for a couple of hours at the end of the day. I can't sleep at night's, he stays up until he literally falls into bed.
It angers me that my father-in-law who ends up doing the biggest share of the farming - at age 78 - remembers getting the very same prices for his crops the first year he was married, more than 55 years ago. I feel like small family farms should be considered a national treasure. That we are losing that treasure and no one cares.
We've been told and accepted the fact that prices are what they are so everyone can afford to eat. The small farmers are proud of the fact that each one of them feeds about 167 people a day every day, every year. That's no small accomplishment!
But we are in danger. Corporate farms are growing bigger and bigger. They are the ones getting rich from the farm subsidies, not us. Do you think corporations really care whether you can afford to eat or not? I just wish people would realize what is happening and care enough to make a difference. What is the answer? I don't know. I only wish my husband and I could return to the life we began - the one I would NEVER have thought I wanted to be a part of. I think the world was a much friendlier place when the family farm was center of the economy. It's not an easy life, but it is / was a great life.
Think of us when you visit the grocery store next time - or eat supper tonight.
-c |
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