Beans, Beans...

They're good for your heart...

Okay, so don't finish that phrase.

We're currently in beans, meaning the guys are able to work at a reasonable pace. It also means that the tractor rides are more educational for Anna, as my dad (the former ag teacher) is manning the grain cart. She announced yesterday after riding with Papa Ted that she got to try one of the soybeans.

"You what?" I asked.
"I got to eat one of them, Mom." she explained.
"Huh." I didn't know how to respond. I guess I have been living under the assumption that all of our stuff is inedible in its raw form. I mean, that's what field corn is, right? But soybeans...duh, Emily...don't I eat roasted and salted soybeans because Women's Running Magazine tells me it will help build muscle? Isn't that what we're growing?

Answer: yes.

However, I have never been one to just mosey out to the field and chew on a soybean. I like them roasted, salted, and from our good friends at Good Sense Snacks.

So this got me to thinking...am I missing out on a Farmer's Market opportunity? Should I be picking a load of soybeans, roasting them in my oven, salting them and packaging them up as Emily's Salty Soy Snacks?

Um, no. I don't have time to even make our regular dinner.

I know what you're probably thinking, "But Emily, don't you preach how your family helps feed and fuel our country?" Yes...I guess, however, I thought that our food and fuel had to go some where first and then be a food and fuel product. I hate to use the word processed because it has such a bad reputation in our society right now, but I guess I thought we had to take our crop out, have a little (gasp) processing, and then there you go.

However, after a conversation with my mom about "do we really feed the world?" I guess we do! How exciting! I know to all you farmers out there who read this are either sighing at my lack of knowledge or shaking your heads at my use of the "p" word, but, hey, my learning curve is still steep.

I guess I should be the one in the tractor with Papa Ted...maybe I'd learn something.

A Better Home, With No Garden

So I have been a fan of Better Homes and Gardens magazine ever since we remodeled our home. I loved to pore through the pages, dog-earing ones that I loved, laughing at the ones I didn't. I have even gone as far as written in to their "Save My Room" columns, entered to win a landscaping re-do, and even sent in our house  story, as I tire of reading the "we bought this random house and demolished it, uncovered hardwoods, exposed beams, etc." We did that...and wouldn't people want to read about how this is my grandparents' house, too? Well...not so much, as I got a lovely, "no thank you" email from them.

Sigh.

Anyway, I still read it quite religiously, however, find myself during this season doing a lot of eyerolling as their harvest themed rooms and decor are quite un-harvesty. Harvest around BHG is lovely, white, crisp and apple-y. Harvest around here is dusty, dirty, cobwebby, and corny (not har, har corny, but actual corn-y). Their white slipcovered furniture would not withstand the grain dust that is currently blowing into my house as I type. The guys are rolling now, in the field behind my house, and as the corn is harvested, the little red bits of the plant are sprinkled everywhere...including through the screens of my windows and onto my dark furniture.


Better Homes and Gardens would suggest that harvest is a time for enjoying the fall foliage, and this year is truly spectacular, but as any mid-level botanist would know, the dry conditions have caused the abundance of lovely colors. Which, for me, means a nervous husband during the month of August, and a completely and utterly obnoxiously dusty gravel road (again, see my dark furniture...what was I thinking??).

Life during harvest for BHG folks is leisurely, spent by their spectacular fire pits, roasting organic s'mores and fresh pressed cider. We are lucky to get a sandwich around here on the go, as meal planning has revolved around questions such as "will this heat up well?" and "could I stand to make this again at 9:00?"

Apples and pumpkins adorn tables and Better Homes and Gardens families frolic in the orchards showcased in the glossy pages of the magazine. My harvest attempts, not harvest activities, have included heading to the apple orchard with the four kids to only sweat through my clothes as I chased them down the U-Pick aisles. And then there's playing in the yard for us...which is nearly life threatening thanks to the grain carts and combine just feet from the girls' swingset.

You're probably noticing a theme...just as Virginia is for Lovers, Harvest is for Whining, and if you're a farm kid or a farm wife or a farmer, you'll know that this is a truly beautiful and bountiful time, full of worry, stress and sleep deprivation.

Don't let BHG fool you!

Harvest Realizations

I have had the pleasure of staying at home with all of my children for the past six years. I quit a job that I loved to care for little people whom I love even more. I am not saying that there are days...nor am I belittling those who have chosen to stay at work (there are times I want to be you), however, I have had a little bit of an easy road as a SAHM.

You see, Joe has been around. He worked from his office at home when we first had Anna and lived in town. He would travel a few days here and there, but that was do-able. Then, we moved to the farm, he quit that job, and became a farmer. His office is still on the first floor of our house (makes it sound like we live in a Taj Mahal, but really, just an old 2-story), and his "workplace" surrounds us. He's in and out through the day, allowing me to traipse around, grocery shopping alone on days when it's slow around here, as well as helping me get kids from here to there. I am lucky; I realize this. However, I am not saying that raising four kids under the age of six is cushy, it's just that we're a team.

However, harvest makes me realize how much I need my other teammate. I can't do this alone, all the time. I am not a good mom, and especially not a great wife during this busy season. My husband, after working all day, is greeted every evening by my exhausted heap of a self on the couch. I know, romantic, huh? I'm surviving, not thriving during this time, and to those of you who do this on a regular basis...KUDOS. This stinks.

The first few nights, even a week, are fun. The kids and I eat pancakes with chocolate chips, like Daddy hates, snuggle for stories on my bed, and I get to watch my fill of primetime HGTV. However, once reality sets in and I am the one who is giving all the baths, doing all the homework, and refereeing all the fights do I wish I would have gotten my truck driver's license. I wish I could escape to watch the combine do its thing, bringing in the crop that will pay for the online shopping I do because I can't take all four kids to the Old Navy Baby Sale (heaven forbid I miss it!!).

Anyway, I sound whiny, and I don't intend to, but harvest is wearing on me, and we are still in the same field we've been in since Friday. Yes, Friday. It's not that big, it's that down.

We are blessed with a bountiful yield average, even though the corn is going to be tricky to get out, so I need to keep that in mind as I grumble giving the fourth bath of the night. I need to remember how lucky I am, in February, when I don't have to wake everyone up, bundle everyone up, and go meet the bus. I'm not alone, I'm just lonely at the moment.

However, everything is temporary. This feeling of loneliness is as temporary as the pumpkin display I have on my front porch and the Illini's 5 and 0 record. Just as the pumpkins will be eaten by my dog and the Illini will soon lose, my loneliness will wane, giving way to wanting Joe to just get out of the house for an hour so I can watch HGTV without commentary.

This is all temporary. I can do this.

Combines and Control Freaks

I hear it.

I can smell it.

I can see the grain dust.

The control freak in me wants to run around my house and shut all the windows to keep the dust out from the field to the south of us, but I am not going to. I am going to listen. I am going to rejoice.

Harvest has begun...

...and it couldn't have come soon enough. The guys have been chomping at the bit for about a week now, as they have had a few moments that have tested their patience.

You see, we had some downed corn. If you can recall, we had a wind storm that I so poetically and gratefully posted about, stating that we were fine, our corn was fine, only to be greeted one hour later with rather grim details. It really turned out to not be so bad, but bad enough that we knew once we started harvesting it, we would be in for a long, long haul.

Thus, a new piece of equipment was purchased. Retail therapy-farmer style.

Anyway, this new part of our corn head is to help pick up the downed corn. It's pretty fancy looking, not so scary as the reel we have that you have to take on and off (I think), and looks like a spider. This is more sleek, spikey looking, and stays on the whole time the corn head is on, whether the corn we're harvesting is up or down. Pretty neat, huh?

However, with this new piece of shiny stuff comes a whole package of technology, all of which must work perfectly in harmony for the new attachment to work properly.

However, we were missing a piece of said technology.

And, as of yesterday, a day that followed a rain--a rain that was nice, and not too much to keep everyone out of the field--, it was en route fro Minneapolis to Peoria to the dealership in Brimfield, and, if we were lucky, would be hand delivered by the mechanic in the morning.

Thus, out of the farmer's control.

Thus, a lot of sighing.

Thus, the combine is running a field where there isn't much downed corn because they cannot stand it anymore!!!

I am a control freak, so I feel like I can completely relate. The guys are excited, they're ready, it's the Big Dance of farming, and they're left on a beautiful September day to sit and wait on the UPS truck. They cannot stand it, and so they found other things that they could control to work on to keep their minds and hands busy. The mower was used around the buildings yesterday, as my dad couldn't stand to not be on something mechanical. Bookwork was completed by Joe, and he hates to do that on a nice day. My uncle, unfortunately, took the day to take his son to the doctor's for a football related injury, thankfully having the day to do so, but I know that he would have rather been in a combine cab...for obvious reasons.

They have spent the past week waiting on this part, trying to be patient, telling themselves that things needed to be greased (which they did), and that it's still pretty early in the season (which it is), but all the while, I know that all this tinkering and fidgeting is because the real thing they want to do, to harvest, is out of their control until that lovely white Kliene's truck comes up the road.

Well, I think the starting in the field across the road is a "take that, stupid part!" reaction. They are not starting where they would like to, but a control freak can only take so much. Kind of like me dusting when it's a dry day and my windows are open. You have to feel that sense of accomplishment some where, some time.

I'm excited that they're starting. It means a shift in my lifestyle at the moment, but Joe is always in a better mood when he's using heavy equipment. My dad is always in a better humor when he's busy, and my uncle is always happy when he's in the combine's cab.

Life is how it should be.

For now.

A Combine? In JULY?

After finishing reading my news feed on Facebook this morning, I'm realizing once again the differences between living on a working livestock/grain farm and my townie friends. Even though Joe was able to come with us and enjoy fireworks in town last night, he was yawning incessantly due to the simple fact that it was later than we're usually out (we're usually snoozing on our respective couches the second the kids are in bed...is this normal?), but he was also exhausted after a day spent in the heat prepping the combine and wagons for our wheat harvesting today.

Yep, that's right. Wheat. We have wheat...did you know that? I knew that at one time we had wheat, but thanks to our busy fall, I must have missed the conversation about planting...excuse me sowing wheat. Oops.

Regardless, it's early, two of the four kids are up, it's basketball camp/library/t-ball day, and Joe's already out the door, hauling a load of corn to get the semi cleared out before the wheat needs to be put into the semi's hopper bottom (or trailer with a mechanized hole in the bottom, as I like to think of it).

The lack of Joe's participation in all of our Fourth of July activities is not what struck me this time, it's the combine! In JULY! I nearly had a panic attack when I saw it, feeling the nervousness and loneliness I tend to get when we're deep in the heart of harvest. I started to rifle through the pantry to make sure I had Nutty Bars, a harvest staple, and then caught myself:

IT'S JULY. And, it's WHEAT. Thus, this harvest is only a DAY or TWO!! Whew.

So, as my panic attack subsided, my questions started. Joe's not super thrilled to have wheat, as it's harvest time is not quite ideal. No, he's not lamenting the fact that the fourth of July was not spent camping or golfing or swimming. He always laughs that outdoor leisure activities are not his style, as his job is spent outside most of the time. What's the fun of nature when you're in nature already? Anyway, he's feeling the time crunch of hay mowing and baling as well as loads of grain that need to be hauled for July contract dates (grain contracts are like a deadline or a due date). He's also seeing the importance of being present in our kids' lives. A benefit of farming (and there are not many fringe benefits...sans a seed corn cap or two) is the ability to be present during the day, in and out of the house and yard with the kids. It's a blessing and curse, Joe will tell you, as I depend on him way too much for every day things, and when he's not free, I'm shocked. Anyway, being present is tricky when there's a crop that is time sensitive.

Thankfully, however, Joe's wheat harvesting is just a day or two, and he will be able to sit a kid or two on his lap as he drives (actually, the combine drives itself, but that's another post) the combine through the picturesque wheat field. With my panic of seeing the combine subsiding, I will gladly pack and Nutty Bar in honor and preparation of the season that causes me great strife.

I guess this is just a warm up.

The End

Today is the day.
We are finishing. Currently, the guys are finishing up 25 acres of Joe's corn, and I couldn't be more excited. There are hardly any parallels to last year's harvest debacle (we finished as the snow was falling in December), however, there is just one:

SHEER JOY.

Seriously, last year's harvest was finished in the wee hours, fists pumping as the last load was brought in as the snow fell. The same feeling of relief will happen tonight. I think the shouts of happiness, sighs of relief, and jumps for joy that will happen when the combine rolls into the driveway tonight will probably be heard all the way to town. I'm not just happy for my own selfish reasons, although having a helper to pick up Anna from the bus and going to the grocery store by myself are two of the many benefits of Joe being finished, rather I'm so happy that we have completed another harvest bountifully, without huge breakdowns, of the mental or physical kind, but most importantly, safely.

That's the big deal here. Harvest is a dangerous time. There were bins that had to be climbed at dark to check on the spinner during what the news called, "one of the worst winds" we have had in years. There are huge pieces of equipment that thresh (CUT) many, many, many plants that need to be checked with hands that could also be threshed. There are children playing during the end of the beautiful Indian Summer, riding bikes in their driveway as their dad pulled in, focused upon the task at hand and the next field, next load, next whatever. There are PTO shafts and augers that do something, I'm not sure what exactly, but from the looks of it, it could rip your arm to shreds. Fortunately, for us, there have been no incidents such as this, and for that, I am truly thankful that harvest is over.

So what now? What will this farm family do now that there's nothing pressing. Well, while I'm truly doing the "harvest is over" dance, Joe and the guys are going to continue being busy doing the next steps: prepping the land for spring by operating our two tillage tools, which I think are named after Superheroes: The Dominator and The Turbo Chopper 3000. There's lime to be spread, cattle work to be done, bookwork that needs to be caught up. Even though life at the harried harvest pace has ended, farm life truly never stops.

Isn't that the way with most things? Like the brilliant Roseanne-Rosannadanna said, "If it's not one thing, it's another."

Which is good, because what would I write about??

Almost There

Fall is marathon season, and since I have either been expecting a baby or have just had one for the past six years, I haven't had a chance to do a full marathon for awhile. However, I currently feel like I'm running one, since our adventures in harvest are still going. For the past week, Joe has been reporting that "we're almost there," or, "only two days left," or, "if we just work late tonight, we'll be close to done."

We're close, yet there is still so much to do, and so many obstacles to overcome. Last night brought an inch of, truly, well needed rain, but also high winds. I haven't had a report on any down corn, but with the crazy winds we had, I wouldn't be surprised.

We're so close, but weather or a situation like downed corn could make our "two days left" turn into a week. I equate this to being at mile 20 of a marathon. You've trained, run your long runs (up to 20 or 22 miles), but there are still 6 to go. People are cheering you on, saying, "Not much farther!" or "You're so close," but really, you're not. 6 miles can seem like an eternity to tired legs.

Kind of like these next "two days."

We're hoping to wrap up soon, and I know that this last leg of harvest will be tough, but we've made it this far. We can keep going, right?

Sure we can!

The Dog Ate My Internet

Honestly, this dog is going to be the death of me. Between her priceless finds, which continue to appear on my deck (and smell like crazy) and her chewing, I'm ready for her to stop this puppy business and just be a lazy dog, like Yellow Dog in the movie Funny Farm.

Anyway, my lack of posting is two fold. Mainly, it's the lack of the connection to the 21st century, thanks to Sadie. But secondly, we are experiencing the surprise, exhaustion, and excitement of welcoming a fourth farm kid to our brood! Yep, you read that right...we're expecting!! Baby #4 will be arriving in late May hopefully by the time planting is complete. I'm hoping for he or she to stay in the "oven" until Joe is done, as I don't really want to drive myself to the hospital.

In other news, harvest is days away from being completed, and thanks to a nice shower on Saturday and a little one yesterday, the dust has settled; my mums have received a well deserved drink (I've been lazy), and Joe was able to attend not one, but two weiner roasts with us this weekend (he loves hot dogs!).

Life is good.

Now, let's just hope I can stay connected to keep up the countdown until the end of harvest!

18 Straight Days Should Call for a Chicken Dance

We are on Day 18 of perfect harvest weather. What luck! What bliss! What mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion!

So, what does a farmer do when he's reached Day 18 of 14 hour days? The chicken dance. That's right. The chicken dance. I was washing the breakfast dishes this morning and watching out the window as Joe and Anna were unloading their first load of grain today into our "Big Bin" (kind of like a farmer's version of Big Ben). As I was wistfully thinking of how special their relationship is as a farmer and his daughter, I was thrown out of my daydream as I saw them start to do the Chicken Dance right out there in the driveway!

One driving by (thank goodness we don't have much traffic that doesn't already know we're kind of strange) would consider this a bit odd, and might even slow down to see this grown man executing a perfect Chicken Dance with his daughter. However, I know that there are two factors contributing to this silly behavior. Well, three, if you count that Joe is pretty silly with the kids, and four if you count that there was a time when Joe was the leader of aforementioned dance at roughly nine thousand fraternity brothers' weddings.

But I digress.

The first "real" factor is that we are truly on Day 18, and the guys are getting to the silly phase of exhaustion. It is wonderful to have had this perfect, dry, some times warm, some times cool weather, but it tends to drive a person nutty. The farmers are actually calling it quits early today, and not working tomorrow, just to get a bit of a break. That is something that is rarely done during a busy season, but the farmers around here know that they are starting to get borderline crazy, so a break is necessary. Thank goodness! Respite from doing the bedtime routine alone, and the potential of a dinner OUT!! Whoo-hoo!!

Secondly, I have been doing a little bit of subbing at Anna's school, and yesterday, my mission was to pretend to be a music teacher for 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders. My cousin, a 4th grader, was truly mortified when I started teaching tempo by having them dance the Chicken Dance (just following the sub plans...for the most part!). Anyway, Austin, my cousin, acted horrified, but as I looked closer when I saw Joe and Anna doing the Chicken Dance, a small camouflaged-sweatshirt arm began flapping, and I realized that AUSTIN was doing it, too!! Guess my lesson sunk in!

Regardless of who was teaching whom the Chicken Dance, and regardless of the day, we are thankful for the silliness. This is a good thing. Scratch that, this mood around the farm is a great thing. The guys are happy with the yields; the weather is cooperating; and although they may lament the markets, we all have made good decisions regarding them.

If you're feeling good about being a farmer/farm wife/farm kid...who wouldn't want to break out into the Chicken Dance??

This Time of Year

It's homecoming week. Although we don't have much to do with our daughter's school's homecoming, I tend to get excited over events such as these. I'm an event gal, always have been. As a high school student, homecoming brings back the panic and terror over finding a date for the dance, as well as the band show (yes, I am a band nerd, thus the panic over a date), skit night, coronation, bonfire, and the big game. As a college kid, I loved homecoming because it made me just feel so happy that I wasn't one of those "old" alumns out at the bars, reliving their glory days... oh, to be that young, sweet sorority girl again. Heck, I was even on the university's homecoming court, starting the trend to wave at both the east fans and the west fans during our introduction at halftime. I'm soooo fancy.

Anyway, this time of year is exciting to me already, but now being a farm wife, even though it's stressful and lonely and irritating, I'm still pumped for fall, and all it has to offer. I want to wear a set of school colors and hang out with old friends. I want to watch a football game and feel extremely loyal to a team. I'm a University of Illinois grad, so watching football is horrible, and my high school team has now consolidated so many times I have lost track of their football mascot. . .Tigers to Bulldogs to Cougars. . . OH MY! My feelings toward fall are sentimental, mainly because of the whole point of homecoming, but are now intensified by our farm life.

We have such a vested interest in the fall, that homecoming seems so extra, so unnecessary, such a waste of time during a busy season. Yet, I still yearn to participate in all the fall activities. It's hard to convince Joe to head to a football game two hours away on a perfect fall day, just for fun. He's not wired for that type of fun. On a fall day, you should be in a semi, on a grain cart or something, darn it, and if you're not, you should take out a fence or mow.

Duh.

But this is not a whiny post. . . because based on your lack of comments, I know you all love those. This the point of my ramblings: fall needs no pomp and circumstance. Our parade is the parade of green machines as they head to the next field. Our big game is going on right now, and Joe is the KING of the festivities (which makes me the QUEEN...SWEET!!) This is our big time, our big dance, our big game, and why should we celebrate anything else with more grandeur? Joe is in his ultimate busy-ness, living in the present with all the great things going on, so there is no need to reminisce of the past. What's going on now is fun, exciting, and a true example of all things fall.

However, if anyone asks, I would gladly bust out any and all of my homecoming court paraphernalia and wave while sitting in a convertible!!

The Irony of the Mascot

Ever since we moved to the farm, I have been horrified with the fact that our district calls itself the Farmington Farmers. I guess I haven't been horrified with the name, necessarily, but rather the image, and all the stereotypes it upholds.

Case in point: the farmer himself.





As you can see, our Farmer is so hillbilly, it's pathetic. When the basketball team went to the state tournament, we played an inner city team from Chicago. Although our school certainly had the biggest crowd, we truly reinforced the image of country folk to the team we were playing. I'm all for school spirit, don't get me wrong, but a young man, who was obviously demonstrating awesome Farmer Pride, showed up to the stadium in bib overalls with no shirt, portraying the Farmington Farmer.

I was HORRIFIED.

Can't we all just try to fight the stereotype? Can't we portray the image of the "gentleman farmer," like our operation is? My farmers wear collared shirts, drive really nice pick up trucks, have master's degrees in agriculture, and speak in COMPLETE SENTENCES.

Yargh.

Anyway, the irony of having a farmer for your mascot is that even though it's a perfect night to continue harvesting, our own farmers are ignoring the hillbilly aspect that I find embarassing, and are headed to town for the football game. The combine is in the shed, the new Dominator (our fun tillage tool) has ceased to dominate, and the semis are parked for the night. The Fighting Farmers are renewing a rivalry tonight with the neighboring town, and we're all shutting down to get a good seat. This rival town happens to be where my aunt grew up and now teaches, my parents currently live, where we go to church, help with youth group, have most of our friends, and basically hang out the most. Our farmers, the real farmers, are quitting on this perfect fall evening to go and cheer on our team, regardless of the time of the year, conditions of the grain, and, let's be honest, the mascot. The farmers in our operation could care less about the hillbilly. It's me who has the issues.

So, tonight, I'm putting away my small hatred towards our hillbilly mascot, and decking the girls all out in purple and gold to cheer on our Fighting Farmers.

My hope is that the young man who dressed as a hillbilly doesn't show up. I might not be able to live that one down with my Elmwood friends.

Go Farmers!

By the Light of the Moon

Today was potentially one of the most perfect fall days we have had all year. So perfect that the guys have really had a big day. The combine has had to have multiple personalities today: the corn head was on in the morning, harvesting what was left of a field near my uncle's house, and then this afternoon/evening, the bean head went on to start the bean ground directly behind our house.

I have been trying to get a good picture of the view out my back deck, but I'm not a photographer, so you'll have to just picture it yourself. I guess the most interesting and slightly strange aspect to the harvesting tonight is to go from a silent back yard, where one could see nothing but bean ground for literally miles, to seeing headlights, hearing back up beepers, as well as the whir of the combine as they work all against the backdrop of the setting sun.

What is even more awesome is to see the workings of harvest during the night. We have friends and their kids who want combine rides, want to sit in the cab of the big track tractor in the shed, heck, some city kids even just want to sit on the lawnmower, but as someone who lives on the farm all the time, the thrill of just the presence of equipment has worn off. For me, the actual act and process of harvest is fascinating, and from just an onlooker's perspective, harvest at night is something to behold.

At night, the combine's double headlights create a strange and almost UFO-ish lighting, especially when the dust is kicked up around it. Its two sets of lights, one set atop the cab and then a set by the head (the part that sticks out in the front, for all you non-farmers) cast a glow around the machine that make it just a shadow. The dust created by the harvesting of the beans (which is, I'm noting, filling my house as we speak, but I'm okay with that. ) looks like smoke or haze, and creates an eerie presence around the combine. It is cool. Pair that with an orange harvest moon that is rising over the skyline of Yates City (all three buildings and about 100 houses), and that is something to behold.

This time in harvest is so amazing. After having two full days of good weather, good crops, and no break downs, seeing the lights of the combine behind my house make me a happy woman. Reaping what they have sown, the farmers are in good spirits, and on a night like this, why wouldn't you be? Unless you're afraid of large equipment in your back yard!

It's Not You...

...it's harvest.

Kind of. That's the problem around here right now. Well, let me rephrase. It's not exactly a problem, rather, a mood alter-er. We have enjoyed time with friends during this harvest season, have had rides in the combine, semi, and grain cart, and have watched as field after field around us has come out.

However, since Monday, this farm operation has been at a stand still. Thanks to rain and grain that is not quite ready to go, the guys have taken time to do other things during the day: taking out fence, finishing up little projects like washing tractors, mowing the grass, and the like. However, they are all itchy to get back out there. There is reasoning behind this madness, however, as some farmers around here are not proceeding with as much caution as we are. The farmers I am surrounded by know that with a little more time, the conditions of the ground as well as the conditions of the corn and soybeans will go from "just about right" to "just perfect." I needed to be educated on this practice, as combines around us have been rolling since Friday.

However, seriously. . . let's get this harvest party started! We're all a little on edge. The girls are clingy to Joe, as they know that once he does get going, he'll be gone. I'm grumpy, and, thus, Joe needs a break from us. Every farmer around here needs to get behind the wheel of something big and act hurried. I need harvest to start. As difficult as it may seem to believe, harvest is a nice respite from the daily grind of meals, laundry, juggling entertaining everyone, and watching baseball instead of the season premiere of Glee. I love Joe, and I love that he is a farmer. He loves his job, and I am learning to understand it better. However, the potential for just running to Target after school and not worrying about having pancakes or PB&J for dinner this week is enticing.

I hope this is not coming across as the anti-thesis of all other posts regarding being a single farm wife, but don't all humans crave a time when they can just be? Don't we all want to determine our own course of action, whether that be something as simple as taking the kids out for a run in the stroller without worrying about the time? Isn't there a time in the day that we all crave to be on our own agendas?

I know selfish thoughts such as these, a good marriage does not make, but for a farm wife, harvest is like a little vacation from the norm. However, I feel like so far, I have only packed my bags, and haven't taken off on my trip yet! Come on, already. . .let's get going!!!

It's Not So Bad

It rained. Neither a gully washer, nor a sprinkle, but just enough to keep the guys out of the field for yesterday and today. However, because they have been able to knock out a few fields in four really good days, no one is in hysterics.

Thanks to these couple days of showers, my dad has been able to keep up with the downloading of the yield information from the combine. Although experts were predicting not-so-great yields this year, and the guys were bracing themselves for what could have been low yields, the results of the fields we have completed are surprisingly good. Again, no one is in hysterics.

Is there something wrong with this picture? Where are the farmers who were so forlorn looking last year as the rain poured and poured and poured? Where are these fields that the experts predicted as being disappointing? How was it that I was able to go out to dinner with my husband and friends last night, and not have to worry about the cost of the meal (thank you, grain check!!) or worry about whether I would have to go stag?

Is something going on here? Is there some sort of crop circle forming? When is the other shoe going to drop?

The answer is: It's not so bad.

Farmers are ultimate pessimists, and even though my husband is the proud owner of the book, How to Be an Up Person in a Down World, once he became a full time farmer, his optimistic attitude was and is often times over-shadowed by pessimism. That's a defense mechanism of farmers. Because factors are 99% of the time left to God and Mother Nature, farmers have to be mentally prepared for bad news. Everyone around my farmstead started out with kind of a hesitant attitude, and now that the results are in, we're all pleasantly surprised! The crops aren't that bad! The weather is actually cooperating! We're getting a few days rest, thanks to the rain, so that the guys don't become zombie like behind the tractor's steering wheel.

There are still hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of acres and days and days and days of dry, sunny weather we need, so I am feeling a bit nervous about posting these optimistic thoughts, but I am going to break the cycle of seeing the glass half empty!

Optimists UNITE! Harvest is going to be great!

If only the sun would come out. . .

And the grain market would continue to cooperate. . .

And the combine will not have a breakdown. . .

And I'm able to go to the Trivia Night in town next weekend, with a date. . .

Here's to hoping!

You Might Be a Farm Kid If. . .

. . .your dad takes you to the bus stop on his way to the elevator in a semi filled with grain. Honestly, there are some times I stop and look at my life, and just have to laugh. Never in my mind's eye of my perfect suburban family did I see my little girl hop up into the cab of a bright teal semi. Anyway, with harvest going great guns, early mornings and late nights are the norm for Joe. He hasn't seen his youngest daughter awake since Monday night, as Joe's been getting up early to haul grain to the elevator, and is back long after Amelia has gone to bed.

Anyway, part of our agreement in the taking and picking up of Anna (she catches the bus at my cousin's house, as she would have had to ride nearly 2 hours total each day, eek!) is that Joe is solely in charge of taking her in the morning, en route to his morning chores, and back up in the afternoon, mainly for bonding purposes. Today, as he came in after his second load, I, still in my pajamas, sleepily asked him if he was still taking our kindergartener up to the hard road.

The answer I hoped for was a yes, without hestiation, as I still had two other sleepers. However, the answer was a hesitant maybe. What???? Am I going to have to put my bathrobe on, wake up the little girls, and do the ultimate stay-at-home mom thing that is to take the kids to school in my jammies? Plus, didn't Joe know I had to teach the study at our mom's group today as well as take Josie to preschool? I mean, come on, man. . .I have a schedule to keep and coffee to drink!!!

Upon replaying the situation of strapping in two sleepy toddlers (as I know a lot of you moms out there do, and kudos to you!), I begged Joe to reconsider his self-made schedule. They hadn't started combining yet for the day, and Joe was simply being the over-achiever that he is. . .which I love, somewhat conditionally! Thankfully, he reconsidered, and loaded up Anna's car seat, to my surprise, in the teal blue semi, full of grain.

Now I don't care who you are, whether the girly-est of girls or the boyish of boys, riding to the bus stop as a kindergartener in a semi is pretty awesome, and when Anna saw her dad load her booster, she flipped! She was so excited. As I watched her tie her shoes (I know, she's a prodigy), I told her that not many kids will get to ride the bus and in a semi in the same morning. As she finished her second shoe, she stated with the utmost certainty:

"Not many kids are lucky to be a farm girl like me."

No, they are not.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Why I decided to have dark wood furniture in my house is beyond me, but today the dust from our gravel road is good dust. The dust on our TV, coffee table, end tables, and basically any other flat surface in my house is the dust kicked up by the semis hauling grain to the elevator in town. The dust off to the west is grain dust from the combine, signaling the start to a new harvest season. The dust on Joe's clothes is from waiting in line at the elevator, as he unloads his grain.

This is good dust.



I never, ever thought I would say that. Ever. I hate our road. I hate that in the summer, it's so dusty our shoes get filthy while we play in the yard. I hate that in the spring, the wet weather causes it to ooze mud and slop, dirtying every crevice in every vehicle we own. I hate that my window sills are in a constant state of griminess, covered with dust no matter how hard I try to keep them clean.

However, today, I have come to terms with my road. While I'm not saying that if the road commissioner came to us and told us he'd be paving it tomorrow, I wouldn't do a small dance, I will say that today the dust on the road signifies the hustle and bustle that is harvest. Everyone wants to be a part of this today, and seeing the dust from the combine, my cousin jumped into my vehicle at the bus stop and asked to have me take him to his dad on the combine. The dust ahead of us on the road was from Joe's semi, and even though she's dead tired from kindergarten, Anna begged to ride with her dad. Dust today equals excitement.

Coupled with this excitement is hope for the season. We as a family have endured a pretty tight summer, and I have been told many times if I can "just hold out until harvest starts. . . " then I can fill in the blank. No, it does not include a new leather couch or a new wardrobe or trip to the Caribbean, but we're going to be able to be calm, for a while. Just as I have made peace with my dusty road, I am making peace with this lifestyle we have chosen. I need to quit whining about the little stuff, and realize how lucky I am to be able to see where my husband is at all times, and most of that is thanks to the dust.

Just When I Think I'm Starting to Get This. . .

. . . I really still have no idea.

I started this post yesterday. It was to be the feel good blog post of the year. Something along the lines of "Harvest is nearly here! The crops look great!" I even had a catchy, and also kitschy, title: As the Beans Turn. Cute, huh?? You know, like As the World Turns? However, like a real soap opera plot line, my happy, oblivious ramblings have a taken a tragic turn, and now are cyberspace garbage.

While today did give me a glimpse of fall weather. . .thank you for allowing me to wear JEANS. . . it is not necessarily all systems go for harvest as of yet. The beans are changing color out my kitchen window, which should be a sign of the times. However, Joe mentioned that it might not necessarily be the glory of bean maturation that is causing this tinge .. . maybe sudden death.

Sudden WHAT????

Yes, sudden death. According to North Carolina State University's website (sorry, Illinois. . .yours was not the first site on Google), "sudden death syndrome (SDS) is the common name for a root-rot of soybean caused by the fungus Fusarium solani f.sp. glycine." Holy smokes! That does not sound good. Here's hoping that this will not hit us.

And I thought that all I really had to worry about was the weather.

Seriously, this farming gig is really starting to work at my nerves. Just when I think I have some things figured out, I don't. What farm wife wouldn't think that a beautiful field of beans with a tinge of yellow would signify the upcoming harvest season? Wouldn't mums in the grocery store parking lot signal life is good, go make yourself a s'more?

Not necessarily. Another red flag that my happy harvest posting would be met with furrowed farmer brows was an article in Farmweek. While my girls and I were enjoying the extreme heat in July and August at the pool, the corn plants were experiencing tip-back, which is where kernel development ended at the tip of the ear. Seriously? I thought summer was supposed to be hot, and that was good for crops, in moderate amounts. I know from our power bill that we have used our air conditioning a lot, but didn't realize that this heat would affect the way the corn kernels developed. Huh.

I guess I have a lot to learn still.

My hope is that even though the outlook is rather pessimistic, harvest will come and things will be good. Crop yields will be surprisingly great. The combine will be in the field for weeks at a time before a rain out, and Joe will be able to come with us as we trick-or-treat.

Yeah, right.

I may not know a lot about sudden death or tip back, but I do know that in this farming business, life is not that predictable.