Day 14: Gardens, farms, and golf courses, and knowing the difference

My garden gets bigger every year.  It's how I deal with stress.

I'm finally at a point where it can't get any bigger.  I just don't have the time. 

That's because I'm pretty much an organic gardener.  I have a compost pile I turn a couple times a year, then screen and spread the organic matter in the fall.  Some years, I spade it up in the spring rather than using the rototiller.  I mulch.  I weed by hand.  I rarely use pesticides to kill weeds or insects.

It's not because I have anything against pesticides.  It's because I love the process and I need time by myself to reflect.  My kids miraculously disappear when I head out to the garden.  

It's also because I'm a bit lazy.  I grew up eating out of the garden.  I want to be able to grab a bean, pea, cucumber, pepper, or tomato and take a bite.  Without having to washing it.  I want my kids to be able to do it, too.

This labor intensive system works for my garden, not so much for our farm. 

In order to be organic, we would need access to organic fertilizer (i.e. manure).   We would need to do more intensive tillage (i.e. more trips across the field with equipment by more people using more fuel in small window of time).  We would need to produce a portion of our crop that couldn't be sold as organic to provide a buffer against neighboring non-organic pollen.  (i.e. lower commodity prices with higher organic costs of production).  We would increase our exposure to insects, weeds, and disease (i.e. fewer tools to manage that risk).  We would have trouble finding a market for organic commodity corn. (i.e. no one to buy it). 

It would also assume we have a problem with commercial fertilizer, biotechnology or pesticide use in commodity crops.  We don't.

Tomorrow I get to spend the day at a farm.  Well, maybe once upon a time it was farm.  Now it's a Golf Digest top rated golf course. 

I'm glad I know the difference.

Gardens, farms, and golf courses, and knowing the difference - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 16 other things I love about my life on the farm and 16 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor

Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 9: A community that respects those who served
Day 10: He put up my squirrel house
Day 11: Pickup games

Day 12: He's a trend setter
Day 13: Our neighbor BFFs

Day 13: Our neighbor BFFs

Several summers ago I was tearing the plaster and blow-in insulation out of the second story of our farm house, by myself.  My farmer had pulled a loader tractor up to one of the windows to haul away the debris.  Then, he left, promising to return in a couple of hours. 

It didn't take long to fill the bucket.  My farmer was long gone, doing more important farmer things and not responding to my calls for help.  It was early June and they were probably spraying. 

My work came to a stand still.  I've spent my fair share in the buddy seat of our tractors, but I've never learned to drive.  Nor have I wanted to learn, until that day.  Needless to say, I was frustrated.

Then he pulled in the drive, our neighbor, like an angel from heaven.  I poked my head out of my son's window with my dust mask, safety goggles, and hat on, looking like an alien, and asked our neighbor if he had seen or heard from my farmer.  He said yes and he was there to borrow my tractor.  WHAT?!

He giggled, emptied the bucket, pulled the tractor back up to the window, and said he'd be back for the tractor after lunch.

His wife and I were friends before they moved a half mile up the road six years ago.  She has since become one of my BFFs.  We've spent many nights listening and dancing to our favorite band and laughing in each other's kitchens.  I've gotten to know her California family very well.

We've learned that when calls to our spouses go unanswered, to ask the other's husband to call.  They always respond to one another.  It's helpful when trying to plan a night out.

Being neighborly and helpful goes both ways.  One night, I was driving home from class.  It was about 10 p.m.  When I drove by, it looked like our neighbors were moving out.  I noticed, but didn't want to be nosey.  I kept going and told myself not to worry.

The next morning, I saw I had missed a call from my neighbor BFF.  We weren't able to connect until later that day when I was on my way home from work.  She needed a favor.  She needed me to come smell her house.  

A skunk had made its way in from an old cistern on the edge of their property up through the drain in their basement.  The animal control person they had called caught it, but not before it sprayed.  She had cleaned and cleaned and was worried the smell was still in the house.

Of course I'll come smell your house.  Isn't that what rural neighbors and friends are for?

Our neighbor BFFs - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 17 other things I love about my life on the farm and 17 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor

Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 9: A community that respects those who served
Day 10: He put up my squirrel house
Day 11: Pickup games

Day 12: He's a trend setter

Day 12: He's a trend setter

When my farmer and I were registering for wedding gifts a long, long time ago, we made a deal.  He got to choose and purchase anything that plugged in.  I got the rest. 

I think I won that negotiation.  I just don't have the patience to compare ratings and reviews for toasters, vacuums, or cameras.  Plates and linens are much easier.  If you like the design and it's within the price range, you scan the bar code or you buy it.  Simple enough.

One of his first corded treasures was a deep freeze. 

That summer, he filled it.  With local meat.  Before local was cool.

See that tiny speck below?  That's where our beef comes from.  It's a family feedlot.  Our families have been friends for generations (Sound familiar?).  For as long as we've been married, one of their kids has chosen a steer to enter in the county 4-H Fair Carcass Division.  The top animals are auctioned Friday night of the fair.  It's quite competitive for the kids and the bidders.  And, it's a win-win proposition.  The kids receive a premium for their animal and their hard work.  We get a freezer full of beef and the joy of supporting a local young person.

Our pork comes from the 4-H auction, too.  We can't see their houses or operations from our yard, but the kids we typically buy from are kids we've watched grow up. 

If local kids don't win, or we get out bid, we go to them anyway.  They often have halves or quarters to sell.  If they don't, it's not hard to find someone else to split a steer or a hog.  

A while back I started reading a blog which chronicled the author's research and journey into whole foods and the like.  It led me to read Michael Pollen's books and watch documentaries like King Corn. I was disturbed on so many levels. 

It also made me realize how lucky I am to know the people who raise the animals we eat.  It's easy to distrust the production practices of some huge, ominous, far away farmer.  It's a different story when they sit in the pew in front of you at church on Sundays.  Buying local, from people we know helps cut through the sensationalism and elitism of the food movement.  It also benefits people we care about.  And it's not a new thing.  It's something farmers and people with rural roots have always done.

A couple years ago, after reading the foodie blogs citing the health benefits of free-range chicken, I bought two from a neighbor.  We weren't wild about the flavor.  We quickly went back to the grocery store for our poultry.

Two out of three isn't bad.

He's a local food trend setter - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 18 other things I love about my life on the farm and 18 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor

Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 9: A community that respects those who served
Day 10: He put up my squirrel house
Day 11: Pickup games

Day 11: Pickup games

I don't really like sports.  I'm not and never have been athletic.  My grandpa used to make us watch Cubs baseball.  I think watching baseball on TV is like watching paint dry.  Listening to it is even worse.  It may also have something to do with my lack of coordination.

My farmer doesn't mind sports, but it's never been his first choice of activities.  He not a die hard fan and he doesn't have a fantasy team.  He'd rather be in the tractor, in the shop, talking to other ag people, or reading ag stuff online.  He really likes what he does.

Our son, on the other hand is a sports fanatic.  He memorizes stats like my farmer memorizes tractor and seed numbers. 

Our son started playing soccer and basketball when he was three, baseball when he was five, and tackle football when he was seven.  He did his first 5K with me at five.  He is currently a three sport kid who runs an occasional race.

Even though my farmer may not share our son's extreme love of the game, the basketball hoop was one of the first things installed in the shed.  He even takes an occasional time out for a pickup game.

It could just be a guy thing.  I see it as encouraging our son's passion.

Pickup games - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 19 other things I love about my life on the farm and 19 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor

Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 9: A community that respects those who served
Day 10: He put up my squirrel house

Day 10: He put up my squirrel house

My paternal grandma was a bird watcher and deer lover.  My maternal grandpa had two squirrels that lived in a house nailed to a tree in his backyard - Frick and Frack.  My grandparents would have been great livestock farmers.  Unfortunately, they lived in subdivisions. 

When I told my farmer that I asked my dad to build me a squirrel house, he looked at me funny.  He wasn't quite sure why I wanted to encourage squirrels in the yard.  He didn't understand, yet he produced an old fence post for me to mount my house on.  He even helped me mount it.

I think he knew better.

See that golden beauty?  His sole purpose (beyond being a fluffy, lovable companion) is to keep critters out of the yard.  Squirrels may make it up the post and into their house, but they rarely make it back down.  That golden beauty is a vicious squirrel hunting machine.

He put up my squirrel house - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 20 other things I love about my life on the farm and 20 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor

Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 9: A community that respects those who served

Day 9: A community that respects those who serve

A couple weeks ago my daughter came home and announced she was entering a Veterans Day essay contest.  In just a couple minutes, she cranked this out:

Veterans are Heroes

Veterans are men or women that have served in the war. My grandpa was in the army when he served. When I look at his pictures he looks brave and heroic. I will never be as brave as a veteran. If you are a veteran you should be very, very proud of yourself. It’s been a long time since my grandpa was in the war but I don’t love him any less. He is the most heroic person I know. I love you a lot grandpa.

She didn't end up entering it in the contest.  She wrote something at school and used that instead.  It was good, but not as touching as her first draft.

Today her school hosted its third annual Veterans Day Assembly.  My dad has attended with me every year.  The essay winners read their submissions aloud.  There was a slide show with pictures of family and community members who have served.  There was singing.  There was a speaker.  But most importantly, the veterans were thanked, one-by-one.

My dad served in Vietnam.  You can read a bit more about his service here. When he came home, there was more hostility than gratitude.  It took him a long time to process those years and that part of his life.

I feel so blessed to live in a place that teaches our children patriotism and to respect those who sacrificed their lives for ours, no matter the combat theatre.  I am thankful to have married into a community that values our veterans.

A community that respects those who serve - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 21 other things I love about my life on the farm and 21 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie

Day Two: My clean car

Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible

Day Four: Our little church

Day Five: His servant heart

Day 6: Farmer humor
Day 7: The first weekend in December - friends, food, & Farm Bureau
Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

Day 8: His fourth grade girlfriend

My farmer's fourth grade girlfriend rescued me.

Shortly after I married my farmer, I experienced the full force of his love of farming.  He really loves what he does and he spends a lot of time doing it.

During the week it wasn't a big deal.  I worked 45 minutes away and I liked my work, too.  I got home late and I brought work home.

Weekends were another story.  I was new to our small town and didn't know anyone our age.  I didn't think anyone under 40 lived here anyway (At 23, 40 seemed really old.  Not so much now.).  So rather than spend my weekends alone crying, I left.  I went to my hometown, 45 minutes away, and hung out with my family and friends there.  Most weekend nights my farmer would join me. We did not socialize locally. 

It worked until we had kids and I started working part-time, from home.  My world suddenly became very, very small.

And then I met her. 

Of course my farmer had known her all his life.  They were in love in the fourth grade.  And here I thought there weren't any young people in our town. 

We quickly became friends.  We were pregnant together.  Along with two other new friends, we started a weekly play group together.  Then feeling like our husbands needed a social life too, we started a monthly game night together.  My world slowly got a whole lot bigger thanks to our friendship.

Our game night crowd has grown from the original four couples to way more than that.  It just depends on the night and who's available.  We stopped playing games a long time ago.  What we do instead is sit around a table, a fire, a kitchen counter, or a basement bar and laugh.  It's cathartic.  I love when my farmer and my friend banter back and forth about their shared history.  What I love even more is that one day, our kids will do the same thing.  After all, if you ask them, they will tell you, "They were born together."

My farmer and my friend.  My daughter and her son.  They share a multi-generational history that only comes from growing up in a small town. 

His fourth grade girlfriend - One of the 30 reasons why I love being my farmer's wife.

Stay tuned for the 22 other things I love about my life on the farm and 22 more things that converted this Sycamore girl into a small town girl:).

And, check out my friend Holly's blog and the list of the other 30 day bloggers at 30 Days on a Prairie Farm.

Day One: Grandma Millie
Day Two: My Clean Car
Day Three: He's helped me be more flexible
Day Four: Our little church
Day Five: His Servant Heart
Day 6: Farmer Humor
Day 7: The First Weekend in December - Friends, Food, & Farm Bureau