Silage Hangover

No, our cows haven't done anything they have regretted, nor has Joe been celebrating the end of silage chopping with anything but Papa John's pizza, but this morning, we slept in and lazed around like fraternity boys, enjoying the silage hangover.

In the past 24 hours, Joe has worked about 20 of them (well, maybe not that much, but close), loading hogs with my uncle early, then choring, then heading to the neighbor's to help chop and haul silage until late, then getting up early to chore and start early again to chop our own silage, only to head back to the neighbor's to help them finish. You know something is urgent and early when even my dad rolls onto the scene before seven!

Joe figured, via a Facebook post, that, "Silage harvest started on the farm today at 7:15 am, and finished at 10:45 am. In that time, we chopped and blew into the silo more tons of feed than I baled in hay all summer long- about 265 tons."

That's a lot, considering all he seemed to do this summer was fret and rake an bale and then fret some more about hay.

Thus, the collective "whew" from our side of the country.

Why the rush? Well, silage for us is custom chopped. Joe utilizes a friend and fraternity brother and his dad and their equipment. These guys roll around the countryside, chopping for days on end, trying to hit each farmer's field at its peak chopping time, but also trying to not interrupt harvest, and also trying to beat weather elements (thank you, Isaac...all summer we've prayed for rain, and the one weekend we needed it dry, it rained...no worries or other complaints, I promise!).

So, when they say they're coming, all hands on deck, and hours are long and hard, and thus, running and childcare duties and meals are all at the mercy of the silage chopper...see me on the treadmill at the Y, thankfully, with free childcare yesterday instead of with my running partner...ugh.

Today, however, we are calm. It's raining, a nice soaker, we all actually slept in, and now Joe and Anna are out doing chores in the rain. A trip to Farm King for cowgirl boots is on the docket for the three girls, as well as a night out for us. Kind of the calm before the harvest storm. Couple this with a greasy meal, and you've got the perfect cure for a silage hangover!

I'm hopeful that this weekend will help calm everyone before our harvest begins. I am hopeful that this feeling of relief will be similar to the one we'll feel in a couple of weeks when this year is over.

I'm hopeful...I'm hopeful...I'll just keep repeating that like a crazy woman!