Bookwork and a Bouquet

I have not been out on the farm for a week-and-a-half. I have been spending my time doing end of year records the old fashioned way; with a #2 pencil in a ledger book. Next year I'll probably put the farm records on computer, but I have to admit there is a kind of satisfaction to be had in putting pencil to paper--all those neat little rows of numbers and notations--never thought I'd say this about bookwork, but I'm kind of enjoying it.  

Farmer John prefers this old fashioned method, but we both are a bit sheepish about it and know we need to go ahead and proceed into the 21st century. But even as I shop for farm record software I am pretty certain John will continue to use the ledger book he's utilized for years.  This is probably a somewhat belated end of an era though; no matter how nifty the old fashioned way feels, you can't beat having 40 numbers added for you automatically at the click of a mouse. 


The weather has been amazingly clear and beautiful--springlike temperatures in the afternoons but with that gorgeous, winter-clear sky.  I couldn't stand being inside a moment more today and went tromping through the "woods" across from our house. I climbed the dam to the rock quarry lake atop the hill and startled about 500 Canadian geese, who took to the air with a great flapping and honking.  The lake is down and I walked out to the edge of the water and stood among hundreds of water lily stalks that looked strangely skeletal and barren. But gathered into a bouquet and photographed against that blue sky they were beautiful.  

winter bouquet

The flock of geese circled around and, discussing me loudly with loud cries and honks, flew right overhead. They didn't like the looks of me and kept right on going, but behind them came an eagle; majestic wings spread wide, riding the air currents, scanning the ground for any rodents the geese might have startled with their racket I suppose.  He circled overhead, apparently sizing me up but not finding me to his liking.  I watched him until he banked and flew off to the west and out of sight.  


My afternoon walk was almost as satisfying as going out with Farmer John to do chores, but not quite.  Next week I hope to be back on the farm. 

Fixing Fence

It began innocently enough. While out doing chores this morning I mentioned that I sure could use more exercise. Farmer John looked over and said, "How about right now?"


I was suspicious. "No heavy lifting."


"Not at all," he assured me. "Just a nice walk up to the wheat field to fix some fence."


I brightened. I had my brand new leather gloves in my farm bag and dug them out, adjusted my stocking hat, and said, "OK!"


John pulled into a hay meadow and said, "Let's go."


I looked around.  "Let's go where?" 


"Follow me!" And off he went. 


We went through brush, over a creek, over two fences, and up a mud-slicked hill.  And did I mention that the creek had water in it?  Running water?  I was whapped in the face with sunflower stalks and had my courage tested as I tiptoed over wet and muddy rocks at the creek. 


All in all it was a fine adventure.  I took a lot of photos and felt like an intrepid explorer.  We gained the top of the hill and there was a stiff breeze blowing. I was too warm from exertion and chilly at the same time. 


I spied the Bobcat sitting next to the fence that needed repairing.  The photos below tell the rest of the story. 

Farmer John fixing fence.

Farmer Linda fixing fence. 

OK, I did roll up some barbed wire and did a few other mildly helpful things. But this made a good story, and I'm all about making a good story! 


I loved this day tromping over hill and dale (and through the creek) back on the farm.

New Coveralls and a Persimmon

The propane tank is full, firewood has been stacked, and we've made one of our infrequent trips to Sam's Club in Topeka, stocking up on everything from Kleenex to canned soup.  We are cozily ready for winter.  

This morning the temperature on John's temperamental but usually accurate wireless indoor/outdoor gauge read 22 degrees.  We plugged in Annie's heat mat (Annie is our dog), and dug out the two heated water bowls for the cats (front porch) and for Annie (back yard). At the shop today in between welding projects, John plans to use a large plastic barrel to create a warmer sleeping spot for our five outdoor cats.  I'll be interested to see his finished design, because I can't quite picture how that's going to work. 


As I pulled on my brand new insulated coveralls this morning I thought, "Now I'll find out what all those dire warnings have been about."  I've been getting a lot of knowing looks and doubtful smiles from farming veterans who rightly believe I'm not, shall we say, the hale and hearty outdoor type.  I do love spending time outdoors, but I've never had a lot of stamina.  It's probably kind of late to start, but I am suffering the delusion that it is possible to become accustomed to a little more strenuous level of physical labor than I've attempted in the past.  

There was a brisk north wind blowing and even though I was wearing several layers of clothing I nevertheless got thoroughly chilled.  By the end of the morning I'd added a muffler, a hunter orange hood, and a jacket to my ensemble, but I hid the camera and Farmer John wasn't able to document those additions to my wardrobe. However, I noticed that he kept laughing every time he looked at me. Although this did not please me I couldn't really blame him. I looked like a clown ready for a circus act while he looked manly and well turned out, sort of like a lumberjack. This is not fair, because I try harder.  John's idea of grooming is to shave. I know  I can't win the hard work and knowledge category of the farming contest, and so I'd at least like to have been eligible to win the "cutest in farm clothes" portion of the competition.  But he is the clear winner in that category as well.  Oh, well. 


I drove, and "stabbed" 3 bales with the hay fork, picked 'em up (ok, I pushed the button that caused the hydraulic fork to raise), and set 'em down.

When John got out of the truck to open a gate he grabbed the camera and took my photo as I drove into the field.  He still can't quite believe I'm doing "farmerish" stuff.  That heifer at the left in the photo above is also looking at me pretty incredulously. 

Awhile later Farmer John removed some shanks from an anhydrous spreader that he shares with a neighbor.   He's going to use special welding rods to apply a hard surface coating to the edge of the shanks so they will last longer.  There was a persimmon tree nearby and my gallant spouse presented me with one of the fruits.  

Now, as I've shared here, I really am a farm girl at heart.  When I was young I used to roam the woods back of my Grandpa's farmhouse with my cousins, and I learned at an early age not to eat a green persimmon.  But this one looked ripe.  

I touched my tongue to the ripest portion and quickly drew back.  Hmmmm...sweet!  Persimmony!  Tasted like my grandma's jam!  Encouraged, I took a tiny bite of the fruit.  Almost instantly that distinctive, dry and puckery sensation spread throughout my mouth.  If I hadn't known better I'd have thought I'd been poisoned.  


I attempted and failed to force feed Farmer John the remainder of the persimmon.  

All in all, it was a pleasant morning back on the farm!

Maybe...

I chased another cow tonight.  I'm learning.  I sped around her, leapt out of the car, and opened the gate.  I'd planned to circle back, get behind her, and bring her to the now unobstructed opening.  To my surprise she ambled right on through while I was still in the process of opening the gate.  I was scarcely six feet away from her.  John has his cattle so tame from wooing them with corn chop that most of them are pretty easy to handle. 


As I was chasing this critter down the road it occurred to me that the skill I actually need to gain is that of fixing fence. I bought myself a pair of leather gloves the other day and my tetanus shots are up to date.  Maybe I'll give fence fixing a try.

Chasing Cattle

Since I married Farmer John there have been numerous occasions when I've been recruited to help chase cattle.  I am always reluctant to participate in such endeavors because I don't do it right.  The way I know that I don't do it right is that my husband says, "You aren't doing it right." 


After a few of my failed efforts to be of help when cattle were out, we reached a consensus:  if cattle need to be "put in," it is Farmer John's problem and not mine. The advent of cell phones helped greatly with this arrangement; if I see a critter where it should not be, I just call Farmer John. 


However, yesterday afternoon there was a 700 pound heifer grazing contentedly in our front yard (I know she weighs 700 pounds because I became an expert at guessing the weights of livestock being run into the ring at the sale barn when we were selling our cattle this fall).  I stood gazing at her for a moment or two and then set my jaw in determination.  If I didn't do it right there were would not be a witness; Farmer John had gone to a sale in Topeka. 


My little red Ford Escape was conveniently parked in front of the house and I jumped behind the wheel and drove toward the heifer.  She gazed at me impassively and decided I posed no threat.  She resumed grazing the tasty dandelion greens and crabgrass of our front yard.  I gunned the motor, laid on the horn, and headed toward her again.  She took the point and ambled down the driveway in the opposite direction I'd intended her to go.  The chase was on. 


She trotted down the road ahead of me and I opened the gate on the south side of the road.  I circled behind her and brought her back to that gate, but she'd already checked it and, having found it closed, saw no point in checking it again. 


I opened the gate on the North side of the road.  I circled around behind her again and she obligingly turned and trotted down the road.  But she had already tried to get in through the gate I'd just opened, and the result was the same as with the south gate.  She didn't even cast a glance toward the open gate and down the road she went. 


This went on for what seemed like several hours.  She finally tired of being chased in circles and jumped over the fence, trotting out into the pasture without a backward glance.  I wearily closed both gates and went back home.  When I checked the clock I saw it had been only about 25 minutes since I'd walked out the front door. 


When Farmer John returned home from his sale he said, "Anything interesting happen around here while I was gone?"  


I hesitated just an instant and then said, "No, nothing much."


No use changing the status quo. 

He Makes Them Skip Like a Calf

Just a few seconds before this photo was taken these calves were cavorting by kicking up their back legs and butting one another with their heads.  

Finally, after ten days of being under the weather with two different viruses, I was back out doing chores this morning.  I was so happy to be outside and feeling better that everything seemed more delightful than usual, from the mourning dove cooing on a high wire to the antics of those calves pictured above. "He maketh them also to skip like a calf..." (Psalm 29:6 KJV).


My new skill of the day was picking up a big bale with the hay fork. For some reason I cringe as though I'm frightened of whiplash when Farmer John is backing up to a bale. Once in awhile he backs into the bale with a bit of a jerk and I act like we've been in a car accident.  Today, after looking at me for a long moment when I reacted like this, he said, "Why don't you drive?"  And so I did!  

Me, in the driver's seat.  John had no comments about my driving--though when I went around corners I noticed that he grabbed onto the edge of the seat.  I like to go fast. 

I picked up 3 bales and set them down by the bale feeders, which John then plopped down atop the bales.  This system worked pretty well because it saved him a bit of time.  

The main thing I needed to remember was not to set the bale down on top of him while he was cutting the net wrap off.  Ummm...just tried to do that once, but he hollered in time.  

I hope we have an extended time of this moderate weather.  People keep smiling in a knowing way and saying "Wait until it gets cold."  In anticipation of that I've ordered insulated coveralls which, I fear, will not make me look ten pounds thinner as I earnestly strive to accomplish with my other wardrobe choices.  

I am very glad to be back out doing "farmerish" things. 

Wish I Were Back on the Farm!

This photo was taken October 24.  Throughout October when the sunlight was at the right angle, plain old bluestem grass turned into stained glass with the light shining through translucent yellow stems. 

Last week I combined 20 acres of soybeans ALL BY MYSELF!  The machine was easy to run, but nevertheless there was a lot for me to think about at the end of each row; how far to allow for a turn, don't take out a fence row, remember to raise the header, and perhaps more importantly, remember to lower the header once I start combining again.  And I'm sure my wavering paths through the field would have bothered Farmer John--if he'd been there.  But he was taking a load of beans to town so I had freedom to figure things out by myself.  I didn't ruin anything, praise the Lord.  

But this week I've been housebound with a cold, and have really REALLY missed being outside.  I'm reminded of a "Farmer Johnism" from one day a few weeks ago.  Over his lunch break John had completed a couple of jobs from my "honey-do" list; a leaking faucet had been repaired and some needed items had been fetched from the scary basement. John does not bear being housebound any better than I, and when he emerged from the basement he didn't allow me time to think of another household job for him to do.  "I've got to go do some farmerish stuff," he said emphatically.  And he was gone!  Well, this week I've been missing doing "farmerish" stuff.  

I carry a notebook around with me in my "farm bag" because, let's face it, I'm more a writer than I am a farmer. When anything amusing happens (more often than you might expect), I jot it down for this blog. Here are a couple of Farmer John quotes from last week:  

John protests loudly at my careless treatment of a wrench when I toss it aside so I can sit in the passenger seat of the truck. 
 Me:  (sarcastically) Ohhhh, is that an important wrench? 
 John:  If it's the size you need it is.  
*****
 Me:  I have GOT to clean this pickup out for you.  
John: (offended) What do you mean?  
Me:  It is filthy.  
He leans down and pulls an ancient container of Armour-all sheets from beneath the seat, extracts one, and begins to swipe ineffectually at the dash.  When he is done there are now muddy swirls where there was simply a thick layer of dust before.  
John: (martyred) There. 

John has had to finish the combining without me and I really don't know how he managed (!).  Next week I hope to be back on the farm!