The Farmer Takes A Wife

Just another day on the farm

2011-10-29T22:59:00.000-04:00

For reasons I will never really understand, my mostmemorable times on the farm have almost always occurred when it is either aSaturday morning or late at night or when Stephen is not at home. Or acombination of those. So of course, this morning being a Saturday and just assoon as Stephen left, I decided that would be an excellent time to have overour young lady who has been assisting us with fair preparations to do thegrooming of Maxine. (aka shaving-for-the-first-time a 3 month old calf fromhead to hoof to the tip of her tail, and by first time I mean Maxine has neverbeen shaved and Esther/I have never shaved a calf.) And yes, I have gotten in over my head with this whole fair thing, butwe have reached the point of no return and so onward I go. Onward we go I should say. Or downward, really.Down, down, down….

Now let me assure you, I can give a mean buzz cut on a 6year old boy. Even an almost 2 year old boy if he’s holding a lollypop. So howhard could it possibly be to give a buzz cut to a 200 pound calf? Exactly!….next to impossible.

I have to back up here and tell the not so exciting story ofus bathing Maxine first. This was required before the clipping was to be done,and since it was a Saturday morning and Stephen was here, that part of this whole thing isn’t nearly as adventurousas the rest of my day. Not even close… in fact I would call it boring incomparison.

Tie up the calf, hose her down with water, rub in some dishsoap, rinse, repeat, snap some photos, dry her off with a towel.

Bada-bing-bada-boom.

Bye-bye Daddy!.......OK, now let’s have some real fun.

Our faithful fair prep advisor Erin comes over a littlebefore 11 am. I’m thinking this wholething should be done in about an hours time. This was my first of many errorsin thinking.

Erin pops open her tackle box full ofgrooming equipment and realizes that some plastic from the tackle box hasmelted on to the blade edge of the clippers. They are unusable in this state,so I start picking at the melted plastic with a knife while she and Esthergather up Maxine. Surely this is just a little bump in the road and we’ll beshaving in no time. 2^nd error in thinking…but who’s counting.

Due to an extension cord issue, we made a quick (butcritically wrong) decision to tie Maxine to a tree in our yard in order to haveenough slack in the cord while we were grooming her instead of leaving her inthe stall tied up. After all, Erin said she always tied her calves to a tree togroom them and they were fine.

Erin meet Maxine,Maxine meet Erin….

Maxine was not fine. In fact, Maxine decided this wholegrooming thing was completely NOT part of her Saturday morning plans so shepulled right out of her halter (which was attached to a rope attached to thetree) and ran away.

Ran.

Away.

Bucking and skipping and frolicking like she had beenreleased from chains of bondage, she took off through our yard, through thecotton field, to the woods, back to the yard, back in the woods, back in thecotton… running. Mooing. Running again.

Did I mention Stephen was not home? Did I mention he was 30minutes drive from home?

Did I mention that Thomas-the-almost-2-year-old is alsorunning and skipping and frolicking like he had been released from chains ofbondage? And instead of mooing, he is yelling “BAH-BEAN! BAH-BEAN!” over andover and over and over……poor baby thought she’d head his calls and come righton home.

Let me make it very clear how difficult it was to attempt tocatch a calf without any halter on. Have you ever tried to catch an animal thatis running away from you? Its pretty near impossible. I remember trying tocatch our puppy who ran down the road and never looked back. They dart in andout of places. They stop and sniff things for just a few seconds and you try tojump on them and they dart away. Well imagine that same scene…but with a 200pound calf running from 2 women and 2 children.

The odds were pretty much against us.

Erin, Esther, Thomas and I could not get this calf to doanything we wanted her to do or go anywhere we wanted her to go. Maxine waslooking at us like George H. Bush looked into the cameras in 1988 and said“Read my lips: not getting groomed today. Not gonna happen.”

Erin looked at me very seriously andsaid, “You can’t take her (Maxine) to the show like this. Esther has to be ableto walk up to her and put her halter on her without her running away.” I knew once again, I was in over my head.

So I called Stephen in my extreme panic mode and he respondslike he always does when I’m in extreme panic mode…. extreme calm mode. And healways gives me simple and practical advice (Remember when I had to kill thesnake and he told me to get the hoe and just “pick it up and put it down?”) Hesaid there was nothing we could do except ignore her, walk back to the pasture,and hope she eventually comes back. And since I truly believed with all myheart there was simply no other alternative, I told the girls and Thomas whatwe were to do. I wanted to cry because I imagined losing yet another one of ouranimals. Its so hard on the kids and it has become something for me that isjust more confirmation that I have no business doing what I’m doing out here.

So we walked back to the house and lo and behold shefollowed. I just kept saying, ignore her, ignore her…keep walking. We got allthe way to the shed and I got the feed bucket with my free arm since I wascarrying my 35 pound toddler with my other arm.

Everyone reading thisknows that I’m 18 weeks pregnant with my fourth child, right? And that Stephenis NOT home? Just making sure we are all on the same page here.

I showed Maxine the bucket, walked into the pasture andthrew the bucket down. Take it or leave it girlfriend. Well, girlfriend tookit. And we slammed the gate behind her.

I started on the clippers again with the knife. I quietlytold Erin that I needed to talk to Stephen about thefinal word on us going to the fair. If we could go ahead and do the groomingnow, I would decide later if we were able to go. I just couldn’t bring myselfto tell Esther that it was all over at this point. She, being the sweet andhelpful person she is, said OK, no problem! But we still had the problem of theclippers not working.

Erin comes up with the idea of takingthe blade off and dropping it in boiling water for a few minutes. I go insideto do that while she tries to find a replacement blade. It is after 12 o’clock at this point. When I come in I find Gannett(oh yeah, I forgot about the 6 year old inside…oops) doing headstands on thecouch. I told him quickly that I was very busy outside and I was sorry I hadn’tchecked on him in an hour. He said, “Huh?” Nevermind. I started on my newproject. Erin comes inside, the replacement blades don’twork. So the boiling idea has to work. It just has to. I am not ready to give upthe dream yet.

By golly, the boiling water worked! The plastic peeled rightoff. Back in business.

I holler over my shoulder as I head out, “I’ll be outside ifyou need me Gannett”……OK he says….can I have whatever I want to eat? Sure, Isay reluctantly….because I know Gannett-his idea of what is appropriate to eatcan be sketchy. But the calf was bathed, caught against all odds, brokenclippers were fixed miraculously…we are one week away from the fair…sureGannett, knock yourself out.

We tied up Maxine securely in the pasture so that shewouldn’t have any escape routes. Erin and Esther fire up the clippers and getto work. I remember I have a toddler somewhere around here about the same timeI hear muffled cries. Geez Lousie, what now???

I look around frantically and see tiny fingertips stickingout of the 4 ft deep HOLE the kids have been digging with post hole diggers forthe past several days. Thomas has fallen in the hole. My baby is in a hole inmy yard that my own children have dug. What kind of mother am I? When I ran tohim, I found him feet down in the hole first, thank goodness.

ERIN! HELP ME !!

At this point, who knows what poor Erinis thinking. I don’t think I really want to know. She helped me pull him out.He was covered in dirt and crying, but that was the extent of it.

Esther starts shoveling back in the dirt that was next tothe hole, but it didn’t fill it completely back up. Turn over a 5 gallon bucketand set that in there…back to clipping.

We still hadn’t actually started!

Erin showed Esther how to start, andoff she went. Holding that heavy set of giant clippers like a pro. Maxine stoodas still as can be. Not one problem at all. Esther was grooming her as if shehad done it her whole life. I was so impressed and so proud that my 8 year olddaughter was doing this. As I watched her, I realized that throughout thisentire morning, which began at 9am with the bath, and through all the ordealswe had just been through…she had not complained one time. She hadn’t threatenedto quit, she hadn’t even asked to go inside to get a drink. She hadn’t taken abreak. She hadn’t even asked for a break! And here she was, shaving her calfand listening to Erin’s instructions, asking questionsand persevering through a process that to most 8 year olds would be way toomuch work.

Shoot, for me this wasway too much work. Believe me, if I was the little 8 year old girl, I wouldhave been back in that warm house in no time, towel thrown in and all.

Esther has always been a hard worker and has always soughtout jobs that are truthfully too difficult for her. But she will impress youwith her determination, her competency, and her attitude. And I was so proud ofher I wanted to cry.

No wonder things were going so well, Stephen was just pullingin the drive!

So I took this opportunity to go inside and get some drinksfor Erin and Esther. They were almost done with the grooming but it was alsoalmost 2pm. None of us had eaten lunch, Thomas was an hour late for his nap,and I saw a jar of peanut butter and a salt shaker out on the counter.

Gannett, what did you make yourself to eat?

A peanut butter andsalt sandwich, he says.

What did I tell you? His food choices are shady. But he wassmiling, so for a kid who had basically been on his own for several hours inthe house, I decided if that’s the worst he did during this entire time, I wascounting my lucky stars.

They finished grooming about 2:15.Esther came inside with a smile and said, “I’m going to go get a shower, washall this calf hair off of me, change my clothes, and get IN BED!”I had to remind her she hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

Well this story has gone on too long, and I’m tired oftyping. At this point, we are still going to the fair, with one thing thateveryone agrees on: Stephen doesn’t leave the dairy barn at any time for anyreason. Period. Double period.

1000 Words

2011-10-20T10:47:00.000-04:00

Thank you, Dave!

2011-09-10T17:33:00.001-04:00

Dave Bitner, one of Stephen's biggest supporters and encouragers during our 2008 campaign, passed away this week at his house in Monticello. This is a photo of us, with Dave and his wife Wendy, at a fundraiser Dave and Wendy hosted at their home for Stephen during his 2008 campaign for county commissioner.

Dave had a successful political career as a member of the Florida House of Representatives for 8 years. He was also a well respected lobbyist. He was elected to be the head of the Republican Party of Florida in January 2011, a position that he held until just last week. He died from ALS, which he was diagnosed with earlier this year.

Dave was an outstanding conservative leader in Florida. He was both outspoken and well-spoken. He was always looking toward the next election, and was always looking for ways to help conservative candidates win elections. He was someone who truly encouraged Stephen to run for county commission and continued to support him after he won and held office.

George W. Bush said in his memoirs, and this is not a direct quote, "The reason why good people aren't in politics is because of the way they are treated. If we want good people in office, we have to support them." I know for a fact that the reason why Stephen came to run for office and then win his office, is because of people like Dave, who are willing to spend their lives supporting good people who are running for public office.

Thank you, Dave. The conservatives in the state of Florida will greatly miss you.

What's new

2011-09-04T14:40:00.008-04:00

A friend asked me the other day, "So, what's new on the farm?" I think they wanted a good story. Maybe something funny,exciting, or even scary... like a lot of the tales I have told.

But I had nothin'.

A thought hit me, though, before I responded and so I said, "Nothing really new ever happens on the farm. Its really the same story all the time."

The farmer might disagree with me. During his year stint as an extension agent in North Carolina, an old farmer told him, "I don't have 50 years experience farming. I have 50 1-year experiences farming."

And I get that meaning, but really its just the same thing over and over again with little twists and turns in there. At least from my vantage point :)

We either need rain or we don't need rain.

We have some equipment breaking down and some running fine.

We have too much work to do and not enough people to do it.

We have some fields that did poorly and some that knocked our socks off.

Its all at once and never at the same time. Its just different and its just the same.

So other than all that, it's pretty much the same ol' same ol'!

This girl is doing amazing though! She loves her trainer and she is as sweet as can be. I'm just glad I'm not the one training, because Maxine is too strong for her own good and I don't have nearly the energy that an determined 8 year old has!

I guess there is one new thing happening on the farm. A new little bundle of joy is due to arrive in bumpkinland at the end of March! What's one more, right?

PS Photos in this post courtesy of the 8 year old farmgirl

How its going...

2011-08-13T19:18:00.002-04:00

Sometimes when you are working really hard, you get hungry and thirsty and you just have to take a break!

Needs no words...

2011-07-29T17:45:00.003-04:00

It just seems like a mystery to me how this all happened. I still can't get over the fact that Sweetums actually had the baby and that the baby was a girl! It's just one of those blessings that I am so grateful for, and yet at the same time, I don't actually believe it happened to us. After the intense sadness surrounding Sweetums' first delivery, I am of course that much more amazed and thankful for such a great story this time. And to look at this picture, just makes everything worth it. All the times I thought about the kids going through another heartbreaking loss of an animal; all the times I worried about Sweetums' health and well-being; all the times I just plain worried... now have just faded. So that is why this photo actually didn't need an explanation. But I couldn't stop myself from writing one :)

Halter Training-Day 1

2011-07-25T17:39:00.004-04:00

Little farm girl is getting ready for the North Florida Fair in November. Since the farmer and I don't have any experience with animal showing, we brought in a local expert to help. Today was our first day learning the ropes...no pun intended...and Maxine is totally on board! She participated well and seemed like she knew what we were trying to accomplish. Sweetums on the other hand...wasn't exactly a fan of being separated from her little one. These are going to be daily sessions, so hopefully as time passes everyone will get used to their responsibilities!

New Kid on the Farm

2011-07-24T18:23:00.003-04:00

Maxine, you look mah-ve-lous!

2011-07-22T20:38:00.008-04:00

I just can't help myself---this little girl is just too cute for words. I am glued to my binocs all day, finding her in the pasture, watching her nurse, seeing her run to her Mama...oh my word!

She is curious and energetic.

She is approachable and friendly.

Heavens to Betsy this kid is cute.

Even the why-are-you-burying-your-head-in-grass shots are precious!

The Evolution of a name

2011-07-21T15:14:00.004-04:00

Naming people and pets and places is an interesting process. For the farmer and me, we've always chosen names that have a special meaning to us personally. Our kids names are a combination of family names and names of personal significance. Our pets names don't follow a pattern necessarily since the kids have helped out with those. Naming the new calf has been a ongoing process and took a pretty funny turn at the end.

My daughter has decided to begin a career of showing animals in our regional fair. This year she can show a large animal and since our calf would be born at just the right time for this, we told her this calf would be hers to raise. She has been thinking of names for 9 months, like any mother-to-be does.

It started out that if it were a boy or a girl, the name would be Sweet Little Buttercup. We all wanted 'sweet' in there since our Mama cow is Sweetums and her first calf was called Bittersweet, so we wanted to continue the thread. But as time went on, she decided that if it were a boy it would be Sweet-tarts, and a girl would be Buttercup (for short). So it was settled.

We were out of town at the time of the birth of the calf. We received a text from my father-in-law that said: "Bull calf born @6pm" I have always known the sex of my children before they were born, so finding out like this was new to me. I really felt in that moment that I was so happy for a healthy baby it really didn't matter to me that deep down we all were wishing for a heifer. Our daughter saw the photo that was sent along with the text and immediately said, "His name is Sweet-tarts!" And then a few minutes later she looked at the photo again, and said "His name is Max actually." I seriously don't have a clue where this came from, and was so shocked at her last minute decision to change his name to something that not only didn't have 'sweet' in it, but was in such stark contrast to our previous choices, that I just laughed and said "OK, Max it is." We sent a text back to my FIL on the name so he could properly address the calf until we got home.

About an hour later, we got a text from my FIL: "Max is actually Maxine". We all thought this was wildly funny and when I gave our daughter the news, she absolutely loved the name and it has stuck.

Introducing Sweet Maxine...I added the Sweet!

It's a GIRL!

2011-07-20T22:43:00.004-04:00

Sweetums brought a beautiful baby girl calf into the world on July 19 @6pm. Mother and baby are doing wonderful and enjoying all the newness and cuteness of each other. More photos and stories to follow!

Still waiting...

2011-07-10T22:40:00.003-04:00

Due date is this Thursday! And she is still large and in charge...

Been awhile...

2011-07-04T14:22:00.004-04:00

Haven't posted in a good long while and for that I am deeply sorry. So many friends have been worried and wondering about the ol gal Sweetums, and I just haven't had the time to keep everyone up to date. But since we are nearing the birth of her calf, I figured it was time to get the blog up and running again.

We are nearing her due date, which is technically July 17, but since due dates are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, I am holding very loosely to that. She was about 8 days early last time she calved. Also, being a Jersey breed, she has a slightly shorter pregnancy than the average cow. So I'm not really sure if I can use the due date and then count back 8 days. Who knows!? So I just wait.

The waiting is what is a killer. I thought it was hard to be 9 months pregnant 3 different times. This is so much harder! I can't ask her any questions to let me know that everything is OK. She doesn't go to weekly check-ups to hear the heart beat and have her urine tested for protein. She can't tell me about any unusual aches or feelings. So I just wring my hands, stare at her through binoculars, and know her exact where abouts at any given moment during the day.

It is exhausting. I don't know how much longer I can keep on like this!

I forgot the part about all the internet research I'm doing too. Everyone knows how productive that exercise is in calming fears and putting worries to rest.

Well, I just wanted to let everyone know that we are getting closer every day and to please stay tuned to find out all the latest news about your favorite cow.

By the way...the kids came up with a precious name....Sweet Little Buttercup :) It met the one requirement we have of using 'sweet' in the name (Sweetums, Bittersweet, you get the idea). I love it!

Growing Up

2011-02-28T16:38:00.010-05:00

Bittersweet has lived up to his name his whole life. He came to us in an emergency situation on the day he was born, March 8, 2010. Our Jersey, Sweetums, had delivered a beautiful heifer calf who tragically drowned in our pond. We needed a replacement calf that day.You can read about it here, here, and here. We brought Bittersweet to our farm and he became Sweetums' new baby. She has always loved him and cared for him. She has continued to mother and nurture him all through his first year. It has been beautiful to watch, really.

Calves don't normally nurse for a year. But Bittersweet is still going strong and it has become stressful for Sweetums to try to maintain her milk and also grow her baby calf that she is 4 months pregnant with. Bittersweet was given an opportunity to be a gentleman caller for a beautiful lady down the road named Corozon. So this weekend, we had the task of moving him to his new home. I just hated seeing their relationship end!

Those goodbye kisses at the end almost put me over the edge.

I can't look at these photos too long!

The silver lining is that we are back in the fresh milk business. For a few more days at least. The white gold is even better than I remember it! Thank you Sweet Mama!

And here he is, at his new home, with his new lady. He really enjoyed getting to know her :) I think they are going to get along famously.

Piano lessons

2010-12-11T15:24:00.006-05:00

Typical Saturday activities around the farm include chicken and fox parades in the back yard, dehorning calves, a good goat wrangle, and of course, piano lessons.

I only allow one animal disaster per day, and we honestly haven't had one in a good long while, so I should have know one was coming.

Piano teacher was on her way to leaving, lesson completed. Heidi was trying to put the goats back in the pasture since they apparently had gotten out when they heard her latest rendition of a C scale. Scrappy goes back on in no problem. Sweet Grass, however, always has a problem with everything. Heidi fetched a bowl of feed. Heidi ordered brother to fetch the rope. Well, it is actually several ropes and a chain all hooked up together. The rope/chain was tied around Sweet Grass' neck in a series of farm-kid knots that later proved to be very difficult to untie. Note to self: the most important aspect to tying knots is knowing you will be able to untie them when the time comes.

With the knots in place, Heidi was able to lead Sweet Grass back to the series of gates that we have which allow the other crazies to stay in the pasture while you put the rebellious one in. Heidi had some problems at this point, which involved a lot of yelling, spanking, and clenched fists. I tried to help, really I did. I got a gate shut that needed shutting. Then, the piano teacher, who hadn't left yet but stayed on observing our Saturday afternoon romp, offered her assistance.

She climbed in, grabbed the goat by the horns, pulled and tugged and shoved, and then proceeded to attempt to untie all the knots...all while trying to keep the goat where he wouldn't escape back out again. Seriously folks, this was intense.

Me: "Be careful. He's not the friendliest."
Her: "That's OK. Neither am I."

Knots were untied. Goat locked up. Goodbyes (and THANK YOUs)said. And lesson(s) learned.

This photo was taken many moons ago, probably May 2009. I don't take many photos of the goats so this was the only one I could find of Heidi and Sweet Grass. And that's Tony of course, Sweetums' part-time-lover.

Who us? Sustainable?

2010-12-09T10:54:00.005-05:00

Loaded questions, slippery slopes, and hasty generalizations.

That is about all I remember from Ms. Huba from Cuba's 10th grade English class.

Don't these logical fallacies annoy the pants off you? Then why does this pretty much sum up every piece of info we are fed by the media?

Believe you me my friends, Agriculture is one of the most misunderstood industries in America today. Which is why this blog was started in the first place! But I digress...

In the December issue of Southern Farmer, I read an editorial that really hit home. Pam Golden titled it, "Sustainable agriculture? It's your farm" and friends I just couldn't resist writing my own version of it here.

Sustainable agriculture is a loaded word. It means several things to people and nothing to others. Does it mean organic? Does it mean environmentally friendly? Does it mean small farm?

I could go on and on and on about this, but I won't. I want you, the world out there, to realize that this word means exactly what it sounds like it means. To sustain means to support, to supply with necessities, to nourish.

SUPPORT: making a profit on our farm puts us in the realm of "KING CORN" and "FOOD INC" like we're the bad guys because our farm happens to be our business. Making a profit is what businesses do. Agriculture is a business. If you like living in a 1st world country, then I suggest you stop taking offense at this simple fact. Our farm financially supports 4 families. It is our passion, our livelihood, and thank you Lord---it pays our bills.

SUPPLY WITH NECESSITIES: The crops we grow literally feed the world, not just the foodies. Remember! Wheat, corn, peanuts, soybeans are what most food is made up of and is what most people around the world live off of. Like it or not, that is 2010. Most of the world doesn't live off $3/cup yogurt and fair trade coffee.

NOURISH: Farmers were the first environmentalists. They will always nourish their crops and their land. They take great and painful measures to protect their greatest resources of soil and water. Please, consider this: If the land and water were SO abused by agriculture as the media wants people to believe....how would we continue to be able to provide the safe, affordable and abundant food supply to the US that we do? Why does the earth continue to give us what we need? Because she is nourished and protected by those who tend to her.

So by golly, I think I've pretty much signed us up for a sustainable farm! GO TEAM FARMERS!

Please please please....promise me you'll think. Promise me you won't get on the slippery slope with a pair of skis and fly to the bottom of the hill believing everything along the way. Support American farmers, big and small. Organic and conventional. Sustainable and sustainable :)

A new leaf

2010-12-06T18:39:00.005-05:00

With about 3 weeks left in the calendar year (which coincidentally is our farm year as well), here are the stats:
Grain Sorghum planted:check
Soybeans planted:check
Green Peanuts planted:check
Dry Peanuts planted:check
Cotton Planted:check

Green peanuts harvested and sold:check and check
Grain Sorghum harvested and sold:check and ongoing
Soybeans harvested:half check
Dry Peanuts harvested and sold:double check
Cotton harvested and sold:half check and check

As we round out the year, I always look forward to seeing my husband again. Family dinners at a normal hour, house projects worked on, small vacations taken, date nights beoming a semi-reality...oh, how sweet it is to be a team again.

But we aren't there yet! Still plowin' up, still heading toward the light at the end of the row, still runnin' the machines, still at it.

But it's close ya'lls. Real close. And me and all these other ladies are super happy... there's this one in VA, this one in KS, this one in GA, and this one in AL... because like us, they turn the dirt too. Providing food and fiber to America and the world...safe, affordable, and abundant. That's your food supply!

Oh, the new leaf, in case anyone was wondering...is that I'm going to start trying to post more. TRYING.

News!

2010-12-01T11:53:00.004-05:00

How do ya'll like the new photo at the top?

Too over the top?

Didn't think so! HA! It makes me laugh. Partly because I thought The Farmer was going to do a silly face, and as it turned out, he didn't. But I did!

Now for the news...

Yesterday, I get this text from the Farmer:
We're having a baby?

Yea, that's what I said! EXCUSE ME?!

Then another text comes through:
Wrong punctuation. Meant to put !

Whatchu talkin bout Willis?

Then, right there in the middle of the therapy gym (some people gotta work around here) I start jumping up and down because my brain kicked in and remembered what in the world he is talking about...

SWEETUMS IS PREGNANT!WE'RE HAVING A BABY!

Totally forgot that Tony was coming yesterday to preg check. So, I forgot to worry that she wasn't pregnant again, which made it all the more exciting when I found out that she acutally was pregnant because it caught me totally off guard. I know, I know, my thought processes are staggering.

We are uber happy, and July will be a hot and glorious month to deliver a precious calf. Mooooooove over Bit-Bit! You are going to be a big brother!

Honored

2010-10-16T13:23:00.007-04:00

It was announced on Thursday evening. "...And the winners of the 2010 Florida Farm Bureau Young Farmer and Rancher Achievement Award are....from Jefferson County..." I think he said our names then, but I didn't hear it. I just heard him start to say Jefferson, and I knew it was us. Tears filled my eyes, I put my hand over my mouth like I was Miss America or something, and I just leaned my head against the Farmer.

I could believe it and couldn't believe it all at once. It is one of those things that you hope will happen, you work incredibly hard for it to happen, but you just can't guarantee it will happen...so then when it happens, you are surprised, you are humbled, you are grateful.

People congratulated us, hugged us, told us we deserved it. We thanked them of course. But I sincerely knew that the couples we competed against were deserving too. The farm families around the country are also deserving. In my opinion, no one works harder than America's farmers and ranchers. So while our names were being called Thursday night, I couldn't help but think of all the names that weren't being called-- the fellow farm families who put food on our tables, just as we do.

We go on to the American Farm Bureau Federation National Conference in January to compete against all the other state winners. It will be an amazing display of a few thousand cowboy hats, Wrangler jeans, bedazzled purses, and a lot of farm talk. We will present our farm, our accomplishments, our goals, our contributions to the industry. Then a man will step up to the microphone and announce, "The winner of the 2011 American Farm Bureau Young Farmer and Rancher Achievement Award goes to..."

As they say, somebody's gotta win, right?

To read the press release click here

Time for Tony Tuesday

2010-10-05T10:16:00.011-04:00

Saturday was shot day...the Farmer, who is petrified of needles, had to give Sweetums a shot in the hiney. I was wondering to myself if I should accompany him outside for moral support (Lord knows I wasn't going to offer to do the sticking! Been there, done that, got the T-shirt back in 2000...I guess I'll have to share that story one day)or if I should just stay inside, think happy thoughts, and pretend that I lived in the city and had a huge shopping spree planned for that afternoon at the mall that is 5 minutes from my house. That is my secret fantasy and what sometimes gets me through hard times.

Anyyyyyywayyyyyy....

The shot was given. Tony gave us the instructions to give her the shot on Saturday so she'd be in heat by Tuesday when he makes rounds. I was on heat watch yesterday, and I was happy to report to the farmer that there was some activity with #425. (Let's pretend Sweetums has a tag in her ear that has the number 425 written on it, OK?)

Work with me people!

Today is Tuesday and we have Tony confirmed for noon time. Since Sweetie has to be in the front half of the pasture when he gets here, I suggested to the farmer that we simply leave the situation as is after the morning milking. "As is" means that Sweetie is left up front (with Peanut the goat since he has taken to spending nights with her rather than his 2 annoying brothers and 1 rather cantankerous bull-calf)and Bit-Bit and the 2 goats are left in the back half of the pasture. "As is" would also therefore mean that Bit-bit would not enjoy his morning coffee until after Tony left, since he is separated from Mama... are you following me here?

Things were left "as is" for approximately 5 minutes.

Ever seen a nursing baby who wants to nurse be in the same room as his mother? The baby cries. The baby fusses. They do this until they are nursed. And there is no way around this.

I couldn't stand it. The mooing was incessant. And my windows are open today, so it was really loud and I just can't take mooing, my own baby crying, and 2 kids talking my ears off. The farmer was gone, so as I like to do, I took matters into my own incapable and accident-prone hands.

Never fear, Heidi lives here!

Heidi put food in Sweeties bin, which attracted her back to the milking stall which allowed me to open the gate, which allowed Bit-bit to run through, which allowed me to then close the gate, which allowed for all the animals to be in the front half of the pasture, which allows for Tony to be able to do his thang as quick as possible, which allows the farmer to not have to do this when he gets home, which allows me to be able to write a blog post that has turned a really short story into a really long one and to say, "I did it!" Ha!

This is one big baby! Kinda reminds me of when I saw a 3 year old kid nursing one time in a grocery store.

She still licks him and gives him a good bath...he is 7 months old and she seems to love him more and more :)

Well, rats!

2010-09-14T14:10:00.004-04:00

The sad news is that Sweetums has had a miscarriage. In the animal world, it is really called an abortion. But I just feel weird saying that, so I'm going to keep saying miscarriage. Tony came today to confirm it, that she is indeed "open". Now we do the shot to induce heat, and then Tony comes back, and then Tony comes back again...and then maybe one day I'll be writing a post about Sweetums being pregnant once again. In the words of my Granny, "It is what it is!" And that is all I have to say about it.

Grain Sorghum (or for you midwesterners...milo) Harvest

2010-08-30T20:29:00.007-04:00

I still count on my fingers every now and then. And when it comes to determining how far along we are in our farm year, I like to start at April as month #1...and then count on my fingers until I get to December (so that is 8 months).....and then divide that in half (so that is 4)....and then count on my fingers again from April till I get to four...AUGUST! And we are at the end of August, soooooo.... we are half way through the farm year. We are hot and heavy into harvest. We have green peanuts up to our eyeballs, almost done with grain sorghum, and pretty soon we will start dry peanuts. But I wanted to share the milo harvest photos with you because I love love love harvest photos. (and if you love them too take a look here) I love the way something looks when it is ready to be picked and then I love watching it be picked....and then I love seeing the empty field....and then I love knowing we are closer to fall and closer to holidays and closer to the farmer having family time...anyhoo, lets get to the photos.

Ooops! How'd this one get in here? (But just for the record, Gannett calls this "a big huge piggy back ride")

One Call That's All...

2010-07-02T13:08:00.007-04:00

Right after you have a baby, you are 100% positive you never want to do that again. As time goes on, you forget....your malfunctioning brain tells you that it really wasn't all that bad...the pain, the sleepless nights, the worrying, the guilt, the upside-down house and the days without showers...that didn't really happen to me, right? Oh nooooo....it was wonderful! So wonderful, infact, that I think I want another one! And there you are, right back in the middle of a crazy house, teeth that haven't been brushed in 48 hours, people eating frozen food 3 meals a day, and no orientation to what day of the week it is.

No I'm not pregnant.

But Sweetums may be!

Yes, I am going through it all over again. I am willing to endure, just one more time, what it takes to get this lady pregnant and then deliver another beautiful calf. I know, I know....crazy! But honestly, I don't think it was that bad, was it?

She was showing some signs the other day and so at breakfast I said to the farmer, "Should we call Tony?" And within a matter of minutes, Sweetums had a 12:30 date with her old flame, Tony the AI tech. She was very glad to see him. It had been so long, after all. And he never even called her last time!

It was all the same protocol as last time...and it was over within minutes and she was back to eating. Tony said, "Oh, by the way, the semen comes from a bull named Dale. He's one of the most used bulls for Jersey semen in the country." Please remember Tony is in his 70's. He is quite the character. I like him and appreciate his line of work.

But then Tony made me mad.

He said "You're gonna want to get rid of that calf. He's nothing special, just a ho-hum bull. You're not gonna want to use him for breeding." Whoa whoa whoa. Stop everything. Do you mean to tell me that that there calf is nothing special? Those are fightin' words my friend.

Apparently bulls are bred to be bulls. You know, for genetics and all. So since he came from a dairy that was trying to breed high quality females, and not males, he isn't necessarily that great of a male...because his genetics weren't meant to be the best bull... are you following me here? I didn't think so. Just trust me on this one.

Anyhoo, I'm still not that on board with Tony. I'm like any mamma...very protective of my babies. And when someone calls my baby ho-hum! Well, you're pretty ho-hum yourself if you ask me!

But Tony has always been extremely complimentary of Sweetums. Even folks on AgTalk have told me she is an exquisite Jersey. So we're all good there...

Ho-hum....seriously?

I'll let you know in 3 weeks if we are to have another March calf or not. 7 year old daughter is already planning to show the calf at the Fair in November 2011, so here's hoping!

Back to the weekly article...

2010-07-02T13:07:00.000-04:00

My favorite time period to read about in American History is the late 1800’s. I love the stories of pioneer life and what life was like on the new frontier and how the west was won. I love to read about a time where people worked hard because they had to. If you didn’t work hard, you simply didn’t survive. Neighbors helped each other, challenges were faced head-on, and no one expected life to be a bowl of cherries.
I have just finished Laura Ingalls Wilder’s last book, The First Four Years. She tells about the first four years of her marriage, while they still lived in the Dakota Territory. It is an amazing account of what farmers were willing to risk in order to make a crop. There were constant threats of wolves attacking their livestock, storms ruining a crop in a matter of minutes, and disease overtaking animals and people. There were no fences, no weather.com, and no commercial vaccines or pesticides. Life was hard, to say the least.
For a moment while I was reading the book, I felt guilty because I too, am a farm wife, but because of modern conveniences, didn’t think I had too much in common with a farm wife from long ago. After all, I rely pretty heavily on technology during my day to cook, clean, and communicate. And I have a grocery store, the internet and central heat and AC. But then I got to thinking about the similarities… I help the farmer as much as I am able; I make a hot meal at noon-time and call it dinner; I let the youngens get dirty and explore the woods; I am even willing to go to the extent of protecting my livestock from danger (anyone remember my snake story?); I worry about having a “bad year” and pray for the crops to thrive; I take chances on investing in crazy animal adventures; I learn to accept the good and the bad about farm life, and I also grow to embrace the realization that farming is not merely a job, it is a lifestyle.
I saw all these characteristics in the life of a farmer’s wife from way back when, and I was pleased as punch to know that some things just don’t ever change.

Must See TV

2010-06-17T08:16:00.005-04:00

This video is absolutely considered required viewing...

It is basically the message that the farmer and I try so desperately to get across to people. Thanks so much to a great fellow leader in Agriculture, Erin, for sharing this with me...if you are in the central FL area and need a photographer, visit her site !

If at first you don't succeed...

2010-05-28T14:56:00.005-04:00

The end of the story is that we did it. The kids and I fed and separated the animals all by ourselves. But as usual, stories involving me and the goings on at the farm are never boring. Oh, no…they are full of…we’ll call it excitement.

I am almost always up for trying new things. Since meeting the farmer 13 years ago, I have learned that the most fulfilling way to live is to simply try something once. It is amazing how much you can learn about yourself and the world around you by giving something new a chance. As I wrote about in my last article, if there is a task that I can do that will help the farmer or save him time, I earnestly try to do it. After all, he has made a lot of my crazy ideas happen! My ratio of tasks attempted to tasks successfully completed is not that great. Task: kill snake…check. Task: milk cow…check. Task: feed and separate animals…no check. Task: put goats back in pen…no check. Task: fix the water situation in chicken coup…no check. Well, 2 out of 5 ain’t bad.

I may not be especially wise to all the inner workings of farm life, but I am definitely not dumb…I realized I had a secret weapon right under my nose and I have officially unleashed its power. The youngens! That’s right, the littles can’t live here for free so the deal we’ve worked out with them is that they exchange farm hand type work for room and board. It has proved to be most valuable around here. My track record is suddenly 5 for 5 with their assistance!

The first time I failed with the animals I knew immediately where I had gone wrong. I knew that had my daughter been around, we would have succeeded. So last night when I knew the farmer would be in late and I could help by taking care of this seemingly easy task (and I also needed a good story for my article) I told my 7 year old and my 4 year old what we needed to do. There was also a promise of sour gummie worms for a job well done.

We marched outside. We poured food. The kids jumped the fence with another bucket of food. They ran around herding 3 goats and a bull calf. I shouted orders. They kept running around in circles. I shouted more orders-run toward the gate not toward the corner! The goats knocked the bucket down. I shouted more orders to pick it up and run. They ran. Bull calf not cooperating (big surprise there). Goats not letting bull calf eat out of the bucket (another big surprise). Kids running. Son screaming “Ninja goat fight!” Daughter getting frustrated. I am pointing and shouting again. Gate is closing. 3 goats and the calf are successfully separated. Whew! The only part I left out is that this process took at least 20 minutes. Ok, maybe it was 30. This is quite shameful considering it takes the farmer approximately 3 minutes to complete this task and there is no shouting, pointing, frustration, or ninja goat fighting needed.

I told the farmer that the task was completed. He was quite pleased. I had to admit to him that I wasn’t sure that the 30 minutes and all the “excitement” it took us to do it was really worth the 3 minutes we saved him. But we tried something new. We learned about ourselves. We learned about the world around us. Our lives were full of fulfillment, right kids? Yes Mama…now can we have our gummie worms?!

Latest newspaper article...

2010-05-18T22:13:00.001-04:00

If you’ve been reading my column for awhile you know that although I have 11 animals and 2 fish in my jurisdiction, I still don’t consider myself to be an animal person. The older I get, the more I realize that there are things in life that if one is not exposed to them as a child, it is quite difficult to get accustomed to them as an adult. I wasn’t very adventurous as a child. I’ve never been a risk taker. I was afraid of dogs until I got one when I was 22. I admit it, I was a pretty sheltered young lady. But thanks to the farmer-hubby, I’ve backpacked to 13,000 feet in Wyoming, killed snakes, raised a calf from a bottle and eventually milked her, and learned that most noises in the night are just that-noises. I’ve come a long way, baby.

I still have a few things on my list of what I’d like to be able to do independently. Not for my own glory, but to help out the farmer. I’m usually content to stay inside and tend to the youngens. But I’ve learned that helping out with the little things can save him a lot of time and free him up to do other more important and difficult things that I have absolutely no business learning how to do. These are the days of planting on the farm. These are long days for the farmers. In order for us to have milk in the morning, Bittersweet cannot spend the night with his Mama. I know the last thing farmer-hubby wants to do when he gets home is feed and wrangle the animals into their respected pens for the night. But he’s the one who has to do it because it involves trickery and deceit and you have to be inside the pen with all the livestock in order to accomplish the task. You can probably imagine how I feel about all that.

Last night was going to be an especially late night for the farmer, so I said to myself, “Self? What’s a good lookin’ person like yourself doin’ in a place like this?” Ok, that isn’t what I really said, but my Grandfather used to say that all the time and everyone thought it was funny. What I really said to myself was, “Self? Why can’t you try to separate the animals tonight? All it involves is food and a little luck. You’ve watched the farmer do it for 3 months. Now go out there and just do it.” Well I went out there alright. And lady luck was not on my side. That rascal of a calf wouldn’t leave his Mamma’s side, the goats tried to steal the food from me before I could get it to their bowl, and the Mama cow ate her ration before I even began to separate anyone. The farmer makes it look so easy. I made it look so hard. If my 7 year old daughter had still been awake, I would have been able to do it. Well, she would have been able to do it. I would have simply supervised and slammed the gate when she said so. But alas, I had to send the text to the farmer that said, “I tried to separate the animals. Failed. Sorry.” And his reply, “Thanks for trying.” He was probably chuckling to himself envisioning me out there.

I am not quick, I am not wise to the ways of working animals. I don’t know that I ever will be, either. I am awkward and fearful and overall out of place in that pen. But I try! I try to overcome the awkwardness. I haven’t given up…tonight is yet another opportunity to add a new trick to my bag.

My Leading Lady

2010-05-04T15:17:00.006-04:00

Something is WRONG with this picture

My personal goat herder, Heidi, will now assist Scrappy back to his little piece of heaven

That's a good girl Heidi.

That's a good boy Scrappy.

That trick works every.time.

Lock the gate up tight, Heidi.
I know, your little assistant goat herder behind you didn't help you one bit.
And no, you are never leaving for college. Can't you see I need you here?

Small Town Saturday Night

2010-05-04T15:02:00.006-04:00

I remember Saturday mornings in the city. We would leisurely arise, eat breakfast, slowly sip coffee, browse through the paper, and then decide what we may like to do that day. Ah, the city life. Saturday mornings in the country are way more exciting than city Saturday’s! Oh yes folks, that’s the day when I chase foxes from my back door and dehorn and halter train calves. No rest for the weary around here!

Farmer-husband had decided that we would keep our bull calf “intact” and use him for future breeding. Because of the rumor that Jersey bulls are the meanest bulls on earth, the farmer said Bittersweet couldn’t live here and keep his horns, so the deed had to be done. And bright and early one Saturday morning was the day. A cauterizing tool was involved. A lasso was involved. A lot of wincing and looking away was involved (on my part). My sister from Miami wanted to know if we were going to give the calf any anesthesia. I wanted to know if she was kidding. She wasn’t.

Bittersweet sticks close to his Mama, which is a precious thing considering their history, but it makes it very difficult for us to catch him. Farmer-hubby has gotten quite good at his roping skills! It’s like our own personal rodeo right in our front yard. Again, can you get free entertainment like this in the city? I don’t think so. Once he was caught, and the dehorning in process, I decided that I better offer my services. Not that I have many services to offer in this type of a situation, but still, I felt I need to at least ask hubby. “Do you need anything?” I quietly offered from around the corner. Silence. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I hear rustling and grunting. He then mutters, “Somebody stronger.” I almost said, “You mean someone stronger than me? Or someone stronger than you?” But I held my tongue. I figured I’d better wait on those questions. Hubby didn’t seem like he was in the mood to chit chat. So I waited, tried to peer around and see what I could see-nothing. But I could smell burning alright. I would later learn that hubby had burned his own hand pretty bad during the process as well. Ouch! Bittersweet didn’t enjoy human contact much before this event and I can tell you he surely doesn’t trust us any more now, after the fact!

For first time dehorners like ourselves, it was a difficult to know if we had done this procedure correctly and thoroughly. We're row croppers for pete sakes! It looked pretty good to us, but what do we know? Correction, what do I know? Unfortunately, when time tells if we have or not, it will be too late to do anything about it. Poor Bittersweet may just have to live his life with one or two peculiar shaped horns. I’ll try to never put him in front of a mirror.

The next Saturday was time for halter training. Once again, we had a rodeo in the front yard to get the lead clipped on to the halter. If you’ve ever put a leash on a puppy for the first time, you are familiar with what we were about to deal with. Bittersweet had not a clue that we simply wanted him to walk. He dug in his heels, pulled back his neck as far as he could, and put every ounce of his weight in his rear end. This went on for awhile, until his Mama came over to see what was going on, and she was able to get him moving forward for us. The scene in the pasture was this: Farmer hubby with a lead pulled taught on a calf that won’t budge, an 800-lb Mama cow (with horns) putting her 2 cents in on the matter, 2 youngens roaming about trying to herd the goats, 2 cats roaming about trying to herd the kids, 1 farm dog sleeping in the grass (she’s the only one with the right idea!) and me-taking photos and shouting ideas from the sidelines.

I’m telling you what- my Saturday’s have never been the same since I moved to the country and I can’t complain one bit!

A Woman's Work

2010-05-04T14:59:00.003-04:00

Reading her mind...Can I ever get a little me time?

Does this even need a title?

2010-04-30T15:13:00.002-04:00

First Day of Planting

2010-04-14T22:37:00.005-04:00

People ask the farmer a lot when planting season starts...he always says "middle of April." So I have it in my head that we start on April 15th. He told me last night, April 13th, that he was starting today (the 14th)...I said, "Hey, that's a day early!" To which he replied, "I wanted to start 2 weeks ago!" Whatever, dude.

Planting season is inevitable, but it is always a rough transition around here. The kids are so used to Daddy's flexible winter schedule that they become quite concerned when they have to go to bed without him here. It's rough on Momma too, because I get really accustomed to going to the grocery alone and being free to make my own schedule at night, specifically going to exercise! But all that ends when planting begins. I become a single parent (sorta) and Daddy becomes an expert on current events (from listening to talk radio all day) and stays up past midnight looking up how to fix his planter or his GPS.

It is just what happens once April 15 rolls around...

Florida Food Freedom Act

2010-04-14T22:34:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time, Super Wal-Mart did not exist. Large chain grocery stores were a foreign concept. Where did people get their food, you ask? Well, they either grew it themselves, or they purchased it directly from a farmer. Now days, it is quite rare to find people who grow and produce their own food. And unfortunately, it is virtually impossible to purchase any food products directly from the farmer. While food safety is of utmost importance, the current laws in place prevent farmers from selling directly to consumers without a food handler’s license and all the necessary other licensure for packaging/bottling/selling. Because these licenses, specialized equipment, and additional location renovations can cost a grower between $30 and $50 THOUSAND dollars, most opt to not sell directly to consumers. And I think we can all understand that dilemma.

However, there is a growing movement of Floridians who desire to purchase food and food products locally and are currently unable to do so. There are also a growing number of small and large scale farmers who would like to sell their products directly to consumers. State Senator Carey Baker-R is currently trying to alleviate the excessive state food permits that are keeping all of this from happening. It is called the Florida Food Freedom Act, Florida State Bill 1900, and it would allow family farms to develop a relationship with consumers who want to buy directly from the grower themselves. The bill does not do away with all permitting involved as the growers would still be required to use proper federal labeling and also complete some food safety training benchmarks. The bill does not include the legal sale of raw (non-pasturized) milk.

The benefits to such a bill passing are numerous. For starters, more local money would stay in the community as a result of the ability to buy from local growers. Also, it would allow for young people who are interested in agriculture to begin growing and selling their products without the usual start up costs of an agriculture enterprise. Imagine a viable local farmer’s market made up of the farmer’s themselves (young and old, small operations and large) who are growing and making a diverse combination of fruits, vegetables, herbs, honey, jams, baked goods, etc…the list could go on and on. There would once again be the opportunity for the consumer to know the farmer who has grown their food and to make educated decisions on who to buy from. From my vantage point, it is a win-win situation for all involved.

If you’d like to read more about the bill and find out how to support it, you can visit here

Rich, Creamery, Bud-dah!

2010-04-06T13:00:00.009-04:00

When I brought home farmer-hubby to meet my family when we were dating, he commented to me that he thought it was funny that we had butter on the table during dinner...uh...YEAH! Doesn't everyone? Well, apparently not. I love butter--what's not to love? And let me tell you...fresh butter straight from the fresh cream straight from the fresh milk straight from girlfriend herself....wowsers.

Nothing like it.

So here is the process:

Scoop the cream off the top of the chilled milk.

keep scooping! (forgive the color discrepancy...I am not the greatest photographer...it is in real life, the yellow color of the first photo!)

It is SO THICK it is almost butter already!

Pour it into the food processor. Add salt.

Turn her on full blast.

A few minutes in, I check to see how things are all shaking out.

Lookin' mighty good in there!

Pouring off the 'sweet cream buttermilk'...(this is not cultured buttermilk like you buy at the store...that is a different product that undergoes a culturing process)

Getting all the buttermilk out to extend the shelf life of the butter (I use the sweet cream buttermilk in pancakes or biscuits)

The finished product...bright yellow rich creamery butter...on the table...where it belongs!

4-2-10 Monticello News Article

2010-04-01T15:57:00.001-04:00

Question: How many udders does a cow have? If you answered four, I promise I won’t laugh at you. That would have been my answer a few years ago too! Because of the fact that over the last 3 weeks I have been thoroughly acquainted with bovine anatomy, I will gently correct you…the answer is one. One udder, four teats. Aren’t you glad we cleared that up?

Now I have a confession to make: I am not the primary milker of Sweetums. I am the assistant milker. I realized early on in the milking process that I was not going to be able to go out in the morning by myself and milk the cow. This is the case for several reasons. First of all, I have a five month old baby that needs tending to early in the morning (plus 2 other youngens, but they aren’t nearly as dependent on me as the babe). Second of all, I have a healthy fear of my 800-lb animal with horns. In other words, as much as I love Sweetums, I don’t feel comfortable coaxing her into the milking stall by myself. And last but not least, milking a cow requires strength, stamina, and speed. Early on in the learning curve of milking Sweetums, the farmer and I would take turns milking her because of how tiring it was. I just wasn’t as fast as the farmer, and when Sweetums is done eating the scoop of sweet feed, she is done with milking-whether your bucket is full of milk or not! So my very gracious farmer-hubby has taken on the role of primary milker, and I stand by for moral support and back-seat milking advice. He is able to get about a gallon of milk in 15 minutes now!

I then carry in the bucket of milk and proceed with my duties. The assistant milker has several very important jobs and I take my responsibilities quite seriously. I strain the milk into glass jars and put it in the fridge. A few hours later, I scoop off the cream that has risen to the top to make butter, half & half, and ice cream. I then make yogurt from the extra milk. It is a good thing none of us have a dairy allergy or are counting calories! The past 3 weeks of enjoying fresh milk have been some of the most delicious weeks of our lives. I’m not trying to make you jealous, but this milk and the by-products of it is honestly the best in the world!

Many of my readers have told me about their experiences as children, growing up with a family milk cow. At first, it is a novelty but quickly it becomes a chore. Not a chore that is bothersome, but a chore none the less. It has a reward at the end. For us, this reward has been 3 years in the making and has come along with many ups and downs, joys and sorrows. It has all been worth it and it has taught me many things along the way. For some reason, I don’t think I’m done learning all that farm life has to teach me…

3 weeks old!

2010-03-30T14:46:00.003-04:00

Doesn't it feel good to be on the other side of a tragic/depressing event? As each day passes, the pain of what we went through 3 weeks ago becomes less and less. The memories will always be there, but I am so thankful that time does heal wounds. Every day I am blessed by looking out the window and seeing the precious sight of a mother and baby. They are so tender, so gentle to each other. BitterSweet is so different than Sweetums was as a baby. She was raised as our pet, by me bottle feeding her daily. He is being raised by his Mama, and has no interest in being a pet. He runs from us! But that is OK...his independent spirit will serve him well when he is the man of the pasture in the months to come.

Joy and Pain - Part 1 of 3

2010-03-16T15:57:00.005-04:00

It was early Monday morning, March 8, and Esther announced from upstairs that one of her goldfish had died during the night. She cried and we had the ceremonial flushing. I comforted by telling her that probably by the end of the week, we would have a new pet, a baby calf to take care of and enjoy. Only minutes had passed when I surveyed the pasture and immediately knew that something was going on with Sweetums. Her due date was between Wednesday March 10 and Saturday March 13, so this was a few days early. I spent some time on the internet researching what the signs of labor were in cows and I determined that she was in the early stages. She spent most of the morning separate from the goats and going in and out of the woods. She didn’t eat. She didn’t rest. She wouldn’t come close to the fence line. The farmer-husband noticed that her belly looked considerably thinner this morning. I had read that when the calf moves into position in the birth canal, the belly would look different. But just in case, we did a walk through the pasture and through the woods to make sure she hadn’t already had the baby. We didn’t find anything. I called the livestock agent at the extension office and he encouraged me to look again in the pasture as it sounded like it was very possible that the calf had been born already. I did some more reading on line and read that when cows are in labor, they frequently have a fever and their instinct draws them toward water. So the farmer checked the woods and pasture once more- still nothing. So we spent the day watching her and getting very excited for our new calf to be born. As the day went on, she continued to go in and out of the woods, but she became less restless and more and more like herself. By 4 o’clock, she was grazing and staying in the open part of the pasture. My own mothering instinct told me that something was not right. I called our vet, and he said that it sounded like he needed to come out and check her. My heart sank as I contemplated what was ahead for us and for Sweetums. There were so many questions, so many concerns. The vet arrived within a few minutes. When he saw her, I could tell he knew something was not right. When he checked her, I kept my head down and eyes closed. It was quiet for what seemed like forever. “Guys,” he said, “There isn’t a calf in here.” Those words were like a knife to us. What had gone wrong? What did we miss? I went inside to prepare the kids and cry. Farmer-husband and the vet went to check the woods a third time. Daughter and I cried together inside, knowing that the possibility of the calf being found alive was slim. I went back out to meet the guys as they emerged from the woods. They had found a beautiful heifer calf in the pond in our pasture. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had thought of a lot of scenarios to prepare myself for things that might go wrong with this birth, but this was not one of them. I never imagined that she would have the calf without us knowing anything about it and then for the calf’s life to end before we even knew what had transpired. I was back inside, crying with my sweet daughter who had now suffered the loss of 2 pets in one day. We had spent so much time and energy and anticipation for this one day, and it ended before we could even enjoy it. I knew we had a few options for what to do now, and the farmer and I decided to try to get another calf and attempt to persuade Sweetums to take an adopted baby.
don't forget to keep reading...parts 2 and 3 are below...

Joy and Pain- Part 2 of 3

2010-03-16T15:53:00.003-04:00

I called 2 dairies and within about 30 minutes the farmer was on his way to pick up a bull calf from the dairy that Sweetums was born at almost 3 years ago. While he was gone, I did more internet research on how to make this work. It is not uncommon for ranches and dairies to do this in emergency situations, but it is often met with frustration and (more) hard work to convince a Mama that she should mother a new calf that doesn’t smell like her baby. I received a call from a dairyman’s wife that night and she told me what they do in situations like this and encouraged me to not give up or become frustrated. This was a process, just like it had been a process along. This was not going to happen easily. Had anything happened easily yet? This was going to require a commitment on our part to working with the 2 of them so that the calf wouldn’t starve and Sweetums would accept him as her own. I did everything she told us to do. I prayed. We worked. More praying. More crying. And in the morning, we witnessed a miracle. Sweetums now had a little boy calf whom she licked and nursed. She talked to him all day, leading him around the pasture. She protected him and taught him. The sight of them together melted my heart. She accepted him readily-finally, something easy!
But the road to this point has been anything but easy. And the thought of what she went through and what we went through that day still hurts. I wish none of us had to go through it. But we did, and I’m very grateful to all the people who helped us during this process. I don’t know that without their help it would have turned out like it did. That is the beauty of a small town and of country life. You have people you can call on who will help you when there isn’t anything in it for them.

Milk Maid (s)

2010-03-11T13:55:00.001-05:00

My New Job...with benefits!

Brag Book

2010-03-09T22:57:00.007-05:00

This morning was just the beginning of their beautiful relationship as Mother and Son! The whole day was spent getting to know each other, taking a tour of the pasture, and Mama staring at her new baby. She is a wonderful Mama, I always knew she would be...and her baby is strong, sweet, and oh-so-fun to watch.

Joy and Pain - Part 3 of 3

2010-03-09T09:20:00.010-05:00

Today I milked a cow. Not just any cow, but my cow. My precious Jersey heifer that I convinced farmer-hubby to buy for me almost 3 years ago. My dream was to have a family milk cow, and today I actually saw that dream becoming a reality. This dream has not happened easily nor has it happened without disappointment and frustration. I guess anything worth working on or toward always has its ups and downs. And you learn from it all, and in the end, you become stronger and you learn about yourself and the world around you in the process. I took on this whole adventure very naively. I think that was probably best, in hind sight. Knowing everything I know now, I don't think I would have jumped into it so blindly. But here I am, on the other side (almost) and I am proud.

First and foremost, I am proud of Sweetums. Her mothering instincts are beautiful to watch. She keeps her baby boy, BitterSweet, near her at all times. She lets him run and wander, but she always has her eye on him and will mrrr lowly to get his attention that she is ready to walk. She stands perfectly still now when he nurses and she will glance back at him while he eats, the way a human Mama looks down at her baby while they eat. She licks his face and back when he is done eating, to get all the extra milk off that has splattered on his soft brown fur.

When we milked her for the first time, she stood perfectly still for us too. She trusts us. Why wouldn't she? We are her family since she was only 7 days old. I thought milking would be hard to do, but really it is one of those things that you just have to try. I will be totally honest here: I didn't even want to try. I wanted to back away and let farmer-hubby do it all. I wanted to take pictures of the kids trying. I wanted to watch. But it was time for me to face the music, and so with farmer-hubby by my side (and daughter over my shoulder), I reached under her, and did what I was told: "Pull and squeeze!" And when she didn't kick me, I decided that I could do this. There was lots of bucket adjusting and lots of break-taking (the arms really get a work out) but we all stuck with it. They say that you should wait about 4 days after the baby is born before drinking the milk, so we didn't drink what we had in the bucket. But it was pretty to look at. Not bright white, but more of a golden white color. And yes, there was some debris in it that needed to be strained out, flecks of dirt and hay and a few hairs. But I'm not worried about all that. I'm thinking about how unbelievable it is that we are even at this point in the process.

A lot of my friends and readers are asking about the birth of the calf, and I am working on that story. That is why this is part 3 of 3...this is the bittersweet ending.

Their time

2010-03-09T09:00:00.004-05:00

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3

In honor of the Farmer

2010-03-05T10:16:00.014-05:00

Today is the big-guy's birthday, so I thought I'd do a little post about my darling companion.

There is basically one word that encompasses everything about my husband: meloncholy.

Which means-a pensive, contemplative mood...for him, it means that there are only a few things in this life that make him really happy.

Snow is one.

Wyoming is another.

Of course his farm.

And the youngens...

And me!
And I couldn't get a picture of all of that all at once because it's never happened...and seems impossible TO happen, but maybe one day....

He is an incredible father, husband, leader, and I am really honored to have him in my life. I love his contemplative spirit and I love that only the really important things in life is what puts a smile on his face.

Happy Birthday to the Farmer-Husband! ...and Many, Many More!

A Random Friday Article

2010-03-04T10:25:00.006-05:00

this is my article for this Friday's paper...I don't really know what it is about, because I just starting typing and rambled on for awhile...I was anticipating my skin cancer surgery for the next day as I wrote, so I guess I wasn't all there. The farmer got a chuckle out of it, and that's all people really want anyway. Just a light hearted warm fuzzy chuckle. We don't get too many of those in life anymore...

Nothing exciting ever happened to me when I lived in the city. I never saw anything interesting, encountered any peculiar situations, won any contests, and certainly never had anything to write an article or blog about! But now, these opportunities abound in my life and I gotta be honest…it can be tiring.

I love my life and I would not change it in any way, but the dog is always barking. The chickens always need to be fed and their eggs gathered. The cats (and children) seem to be up to constant mischief. The drama surrounding the cow continues to keep me awake at night. The farmer’s work is never done. My 10+ loads of laundry per week never seem to get finished. The dirt being tracked through the house always needs sweeping. There is almost always a situation with rain- either we’ve had too much or not enough. And when the children call my name in a particular way from outside, I find myself debating on whether or not to go hide in my closet because that “particular way” usually means something is really wrong with an animal. And this only happens when I am alone and have to solve the problem drawing on my own (lack of) expertise.

But this is life in the country. And this is life everywhere. Even the simple life is complicated. Even life in the calm, serene countryside can be full of twists and turns. As we anticipate the birth of a calf in the next 10 or so days I am realizing that this will mean even more details to work out in our life. This undertaking of having a family milk cow will be frustrating at times. I’ve always been ready for the fun of it, but am I ready for those frustrations? I hope so, because I can’t even begin to imagine what they may be!

I’m trying not to focus on all the tiresome and endless tasks of living the simple life. I’m trying not to freak out about all the what-ifs surrounding Sweetums’ new baby. Rather, I’m trying to laugh at all the funny things that come my way because of how and where we live. This morning I was wondering what the small foreign object on the grass was that Sweetums was standing over, and if it had something to do with her possibly being in labor-it turns out it was a football one of the kids threw inside the pasture, and no, that doesn’t have anything to do with bovine labor. I’m also trying to savor the beauty of seeing 2 decorated fox hunters atop horseback trotting down my driveway this morning (and then having a good laugh again because their horses were spooked by Sweetums and her motley crew herd of goats chasing them down the fence line and they took off running to get away from that dangerous bunch). These things don’t just happen to anyone, and they certainly never happened to me before I became an official bumpkin.

So I continue to endure the life of a farmer’s wife, out here in the beautiful country, working hard at the simple life and loving every minute of it-the good and the bad.

Feed me!

2010-03-03T20:36:00.001-05:00

Just a short video of Sweetums licking her plate clean! A pregnant lady never turns down food :)Click to watch

MSNBC News bit on Organics

2010-03-02T21:55:00.006-05:00

The farmer and I are beside ourselves: the media accurately represented something related to Agriculture. Click here to watch a very short news bit on organics.

An update on the Sweetie Pie

2010-02-17T12:45:00.010-05:00

As we were driving in the car yesterday, my six year old daughter said, “Mama, a lot of people have been asking me if Sweetums has had her baby yet.” My daughter keeps a pretty full social calendar around town, so she interacts with quite a few adults who enjoy my column. I laughed, and thought, “If Sweetums only knew how wildly popular she has become…” Well, she has not had her baby yet, but I am pretty sure we are on the home stretch. I’m not an expert in the area of animal husbandry … (did anyone notice that I just used the phrase animal husbandry?) but from what I can tell, Sweetums has a pretty full and almost dropped udder. This is a noticeable change from all the other days of her life where you almost had to look up underneath her belly to see if her udder was there! In addition, she is doing the late-stages-of-pregnancy-waddle. Now, I am an expert in this area! Having had three kids myself, there is that time as you are nearing your due date where you walk like someone who is in pain. You walk like someone who doesn’t want to be walking. You walk slow and deliberate. You waddle. Well, Sweetums is demonstrating all of the above. Her belly is looking much more round and low. Folks, I think I have finally come to believe that she is actually pregnant! (The farmer-husband is rolling his eyes and shaking his head in the I-told-you-so way)
When we were discussing all of these recent developments the other day, the same daughter asked, “Will we have to help her have the baby?” Again, being the non-expert that I am in all things livestock related, I said, “Oh no honey, she’ll probably have the baby in the middle of the night when no one even knows what is happening. We’ll wake up one morning and her calf will be right beside her.” Farmer-husband nodded in agreement with this, so I knew that answer was accurate (whew! This is of great relief since this sounded pretty easy to me and would require absolutely no effort on my part). Of course the thoughts came flooding into my head of the worst case scenario type of situations. What if we did have to help her? What if the calf is sick? What if Sweetums doesn’t take to the calf? What if the goats butt in where they don’t belong and cause trouble? What if? What if? Oh brother! Once again I realize, this undertaking of a family milk cow is not for the faint of heart. But nothing about country life is! I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I remember the snake incident in the chicken coop and my valiant efforts in dealing with him. I remember all the bottle feedings to the goats and cows and the medicine administration that I handled with flying colors. I remember raising the chickens from babies with the heat lamp. I whisper softly to myself, “You can do this Tracie. You’ve got this. You’re brave. You are the farmer’s wife.” I open my eyes and see farmer-husband who always knows what to do in an emergency situation. Thank goodness for him! So will it be tomorrow, or a few more weeks? Don’t know for sure, so I better get my milking stool ready. Wait…. I’ve never milked a cow before!

I just can't really do the belly justice here

Ummm...Sweet Grass, please...can you just move a little to the right?!

Can I get an expert's opinion here? Is this a partially dropped udder or what?

Plan B

2010-02-05T18:27:00.008-05:00

I am a list maker.

A pros and cons weigher-outer.

A worst case scenerio planner.

A friend of mine calls it being "overly responsible"...

I like to call it conscientious.

Sometimes life just doesn't pan out the way you want it to. Sometimes there are rabbit trails you never knew you'd chase, detours you never thought were up ahead, and even road blocks that cause you to turn around in a complete 180 and go back from whence you came. And by golly, I'm going to have a plan amidst the chaos of these types of life dilemmas.

The farm didn't have an especially great year in 2009. We didn't have an especially bad year, just, ya know- mediocre. And that is fine, no worries, no regrets, but in keeping with who I am, I had a split-second thought of ... What if one day the farm goes belly-up and we need to find another way to pay the bills---what if this happens over night and we HAVE NO PLAN.... (chances of this happening over night with no warning are slim to none of course, but alas, the "overly responsible" part of me is playing out) So I drill the farmer-husband with questions of what his plan B is for life, you know, in the rare instance stated above. What would he do? Where would he want to go? What if he couldn't farm here ever again for another day in his entire life ever forever and ever amen? He looked at me, trying to figure out why I was so insistent on getting an answer to this right this very second...then he remembered who he married, and answered me.

His plan B is to either pick up and move to another location and start from scratch on another farm...(this didn't really satisfy my question, but that is just me again so I made him come up with something else) OR go into the private sector and become a consultant. OK, that works. Words like 'private sector' and 'consulting' are vague enough to describe a real job that would pay bills, right?

And what about my plan B? Oh, I thought you'd never ask. I of course will go back to making fried dough and scooping ice cream like I did the summer of '97 in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire at a little place on the strip called Dough Express. Now that my friends is a viable profession. Couple that with consulting in the private sector and we have ourselves a plan B, baby.

Crossing 'Make a Plan B' off my list as we speak.

Change of Pace

2010-02-05T11:07:00.001-05:00

We have unofficially entered the time of year when the Fulford farmers take their “break”. I say unofficially because we are in the months that the break usually happens, but due to unforeseen weather patterns that we experienced this harvest season, the bell hasn’t rung yet to let the poor guys out of work! But this is still our only time to go on a family trip, and we have been using it.

Since we live in the country, we seem to be pulled into the city for our vacation time. This really excites the bumpkin children because there are things in the city that are quite appealing to them that don’t exist at home. The city is a funny place for me, though. Six lanes of traffic are enough to make my knuckles white, and I’m not even the one behind the wheel! My version of a city is Tallahassee and compared to the other “big cities” of Florida, it is probably the smallest. But it is my big city, and so it is my reference point for all other cities that I visit. I have pretty much made up my mind that it is about as big as I can handle.

One of our recent trips was to Jacksonville for a family wedding. We were able to stay with a friend who happens to live in the tallest condominium building in downtown Jacksonville. The bumpkin kids kept referring to it as her hotel room, since they had never known anyone who lived in a condo before. My daughter asked us before we got there, “Do they not have very much money? Is that why they live in a building?” I let her figure out the answer to that one. When we got up to the condo and went in and walked around, the poor little thing’s eyes about popped out of her head. She kept saying, “WOW! This place is NICE!” And it was. I was immediately struck by the view from the 19th floor. During the day, you look out on a river, bridges, building after building, highways, neighborhoods, and a vast expanse of sky. At night, the lights of the city are glowing so bright you never need a nightlight! You can see cars driving, the lights of the buildings, and the lights of the bridge.

I took the kids to a local park during our visit, because that is where city kids play. My little bumpkins are used to running free not only in their own yard, but also at the Jefferson County Rec Park. So when the car doors opened, they bolted from the car and through the parking lot into the park! I had to chase them down and bring them into a family huddle. My first words, without even thinking, were, “Kids-we are not in Monticello anymore!” I went on to explain to them the rules they must be aware of now that they are not used to. I had to be on my full guard of where they were at all times because there were many entrances and side walks they could wander down. All the faces at the park were new to us and we knew no one there.

The views of the city are completely opposite of my views from my front windows. During the day, I see a pasture, fields, and wide open spaces. At night, I can’t see a thing because the darkness is so dark. But the stars are so many and so bright! When my kids are at home, they climb fences, feed livestock, run the dirt roads, and know how to watch out for tractors. I can read a book and relax while they are engaged in those types of activities. But when they are at a city park, I am on high alert!

When we returned home, the cats had left us several dead rodents and even their first bird right on our door step. This time, my first words without even thinking, were, “Kids-we aren’t in the city anymore!” No, we were at home-home in the country. And boy did it feel good!

2010-01-19T21:22:00.000-05:00

Sweetums has no idea how popular she is...almost everyone in our county is waiting on pins and needles to see if she is going to have a calf. And Scrappy...well, poor thing, he came into this world with the deck stacked against him and bless his little heart, he just needs to be needed.

Trying to stay cool

2010-01-19T14:29:00.000-05:00

Since I had very little exposure to agriculture before meeting farmer-husband, my initial response to his profession was, “COOL! A farmer!” And to this day, my response is the same, but for totally different reasons.
At first, farming seemed nostalgic to me, as if I were stepping back in time. I thought farmers were simple people who lived life at a leisurely pace while chewing on a piece of wheat. Boy, was I wrong!

Since the beginning of time, mankind has had to work the ground and labor and toil and sweat in order to produce enough food and fiber from which to survive. It has only been in the last 100 years that farming in America has lost its position as the number one industry. We are no longer a 3rd world country- thanks to advances in technology and in the areas of pesticides and fertilizers. The addition of these chemicals to modern agricultural practices allowed people to move away from their farms and live in the city, advance their education, and work in offices, factories, schools, and hospitals. Farmers were suddenly able to not only provide more for their families, but also for their communities and then their country, and now the world. The goal of farmers was no longer their family’s survival, but provision for others. Conventional American farmers today continue to strive to provide a safe, affordable and abundant food and fiber supply to our country and to the world. Anyone who has lived or worked on a farm, or ever known a farmer can attest to the hard work, dedication, and sometimes blind faith that it requires to produce a viable crop.

More and more I am noticing how popular the words “farm”, “plantation”, and “country” are becoming. I did a short search online just recently for blogs containing the word “farm” in the title. I was looking for other gals like myself, who blog about farm life, or who are married to farmers, or who believe in promoting American agriculture as I do. I found plenty of blogs that have “farm” in the title…but very few that were about a real farm. I realized then that the word “farm” conjures up a warm fuzzy feeling for a lot of people, and therefore they name their house on five acres a “farm.” They think they live on a “farm” when really they just enjoy gardening and have a few yard chickens. They have taken a word that should be synonymous with hard-working men and women who provide the food and fiber for our country and used it to mean a quaint little grassy knoll owned by a city-slicker who has never actually stepped foot on a working farm.

I wonder how easy it would be to get “farm” copyrighted?

So now when I tell people I live on a farm, or that my husband is a farmer, it takes a few minutes of conversation for people to realize that I actually mean a REAL FARM--the kind that grows crops on a large scale; the kind that has the really big tractors; the kind that we all rely on to survive.

Pretty cool, huh?

What I find in my washer and dryer

2010-01-19T13:56:00.000-05:00

I think everyone knows how thrilling it is to find a $5 bill in your washing machine when you least expected it...(free money,right?) And I think everyone knows how annoying it is to find a that stray pen, marker, or tube of lipstick that has now made its mark on each and every piece of clothing that was in the laundry...grrrrrr.....

From time to time though, I find these:

And I have to smile, because I know that I am one of the very few momma's whose children have a habit of putting soybeans in their pockets and forgetting about them. Such is life on the farm!

Lessons Learned

2009-12-20T14:05:00.000-05:00

I've been away from the keyboard for awhile...and I have been loaded down with farm stories the whole time. I often write them in my head when I sit down to feed bumpkin baby, or as I'm doing dishes, or as I'm drifting off to sleep. Somehow they never make it to cyber space, or even to my journal. I don't know where my time goes these days. Life with 3 children ages 6 and under is a juggling act-- a challenging, hilarious, often seemingly impossible juggling act. Then you add life on the farm with 13 animals to that... Then you add Christmas... Gee, I'm sure glad I don't "work" full time!

(that was a joke)

I can't possibly write about all that has happened of significance here in the last 2 months. I will however, make a top ten list for you, hope you enjoy!

A list of lessons I have learned from the recent happenings on the farm

10. Eggs don't go bad when you forget to collect them ... one day we found 14 eggs in the chicken coup. There were only 4 chickens laying eggs, so it had been a few days. Oops! Farmer Wife was preoccupied with bumpkin baby I guess.

9. My weekly article is well liked and greatly missed... I have been told that people have called the paper several times wanting to know where my article is and that even a letter to the editor came in demanding they publish my article again and how dare they fire me! Wow, that was so sweet and I am so flattered by my following of readers.

8. I was told by a new friend that I could tell if Sweetums was pregnant by feeling the upper right side of her back and looking for calf movement. I stared at her for a long time and I would be willing to bet money that I saw something moving in there. My daughter told me it was just breathing, but I have had a baby in my tummy, and I know what it looks like when they move-I saw something in there! (I guess in March we'll see who was right)

7. Rain in December is never a good thing. The farm rarely has seen the amount of rain in December as it did in 2009. The problem with this is that we are finishing up our harvest then, and the rain not only prolongs our work efforts but it also puts the late harvesting crops, specifically cotton and soybeans, are at risk of mold and disease. Nothing like added stress at the end of our year!

6. There is such a thing as organic diapers! Is this as funny to you as it is to me? It is actually the cotton that is used in the diaper lining that is certified organic. I had a coupon for these diapers, so I bought them and used them on bumpkin baby...I don't think he noticed any difference between these and the non-organic cotton diapers because he certainly treated them both the same.

5. When you give a couple of farm kids a shovel, they can and will dig a giant hole. Our 2 older kids started digging before the bumpkin baby was born, and they worked diligently on this hole every day. One of them would dig for awhile while the other one supervised, then they would switch when their arms got tired (or broken as they put it). This hole kept them busy for a good week until farmer husband realized how deep it had gotten and deemed it unsafe to be in the yard where kids and animals and grown-ups walk around. He told me it was about 3 feet deep! As I have said before, these kids can work!

4. The chicken eating fox is alive and well. I won't go into the whole story in order to protect the innocent, but we are down to 3 chickens. That still gives us 21 eggs a week-I think that is sufficient for a family of 5 (when only 4 of them eat table food).

3. The saying "the more the merrier" is so true! Bumpkin baby has made such an incredible addition to the farm and we love him dearly. He has met all the animals and they have gotten to sniff his tiny head.

2. The ratio of one adult to 3 small children and 12 animals is not exactly ideal. During our last few weeks of harvesting, farmer husband has been working unusually long days which has frequently left me to hold down the fort longer than I am comfortable with if say, things got out of hand in the pasture. Thank goodness that the livestock has managed to behave themselves and stay inside the fence! I can honestly say that if one of the goats or even our maybe-pregnant-cow wandered off after escaping from the pasture during the past 2 months, I probably would have simply waved good-bye and yelled "Write when you can!" as they sauntered out of sight! There is just only so much I can do from my command post these days, and keeping the humans alive is taking top priority!

1. At the end of the day, amidst all the foolishness and mayhem that farm and country life bring, I still would choose my life over any other. I still feel the most content looking out into the pasture and field that are my front yard and enjoying the small town that we live in. As our life in the country continues, I thank God everyday for giving me what I never knew I wanted-the peace and quiet of being the farmer's wife.

Well you can't stomp us out and you cant make us run!

2009-11-03T06:56:00.000-05:00

My 6 year old daughter loves country music. The other day a Hank Williams, Jr. song “Country boys can survive” came on the radio. I looked at her and her eyes were half closed and she said to me, “This is my song, Mama.” “I know sweetie,” is all I could say without laughing. This week both of my kids have shown me that country boys (and girls) can survive… in fact, they thrive.
I have mentioned before that I love watching my children grow up in an environment that is so conducive to learning. By learning, I’m not talking necessarily about academics, although farm life has plenty of science and math lessons. I am more talking about the every day life lessons and skills that are learned when you are free to roam the countryside.
The kids were enjoying the cool weather last week, and played outside quite a bit in the afternoons. I saw that they had entered the pasture, (without asking permission of course-I suppose in this situation it was easier for them to ask for forgiveness) armed with ropes and blankets. I sat on the porch where I could see and hear them, but where they wouldn’t notice me. Sweetums was off grazing and therefore ignoring the kids. The goats, however, were quite interested in their afternoon visitors. This was all part of the plan I learned as I watched. The kids took turns roping the goats, loading them into the milking stall (well, it has never been used for such activities but one day…) putting a blanket on top of them, waiting a few minutes, and then releasing them. This went on for awhile, each goat getting his turn and proper attention. I couldn’t believe how well the goats took to the activity, but then again these goats were bottle fed by us and wrapped in blankets and taken for stroller rides when they were babies. So I suppose they’ve always been used to this type of treatment. When they were released from the milking stall, their treat was a few pieces of corn. My children, 6 and 4, can work animals! (And no, they are not for hire)
Not only can they work animals, but the 4 year old can now do the nightly animal feeding and gather eggs. The 6 year old can now tend a fire and steer a tractor. I’m telling you what, these kids can work! To them it isn’t work, though. It is the excitement of another day on their farm. I can’t begin to explain to them that these activities far surpass anything they could be doing in a city neighborhood. I know one day they will tell stories about the things they did as kids and probably think I never knew what they were up to. Little do they know that I not only knew exactly what they were doing, but I was actually in favor of it! In the words of my daughter’s song… “Country folks can survive!”
Today’s column will be my last for a little while. We are eagerly anticipating the birth of another bumpkin into our family. I cannot wait to see the interactions that will take place with our new addition. Thank you to everyone who reads and supports my writing, I’ll be back before you know it!

Feeding the World instead of just the Foodies

2009-10-21T10:30:00.000-04:00

I read an article in the Sunday October 18, 2009 edition of the Tallahassee Democrat that disturbed me. It was an article about a small family owned farm in rural Georgia that is part of an upcoming farm tour put on by New Leaf Market in Tallahassee. This farm tour features several organic and natural farms, some of which are located in Jefferson County.
The quote from the article that bothered me so was this: "Eleven of the farms on the tour are certified organic, and the rest are all natural and stay away from the conventional agribusiness way of farming," New Leaf's Cristin Burns says. "The products they're producing are healthier because they're not using artificial chemicals, pesticides, herbicides, antibiotics and hormones. Generally, they have a philosophical belief in the way they farm and in providing products that are free from harm."
The reason her quote concerns me is two-fold. The first reason is that she claims that products produced on organic/natural farms are healthier than the products that are produced on conventional farms. To date there is not sufficient research to back this claim. In fact, there are just as many “food scares” with organics as with conventional products. Remember the spinach scare in 2006? That was organic spinach that had e-coli bacteria on it causing several deaths. And just yesterday I read about an organic baby food that was being recalled due to botulism. So organics are not free from harm and should not be touted as so until it is scientifically proven. Moreover, the USDA and others have done significant studies on the amounts of residual antibiotics, hormones, and pesticides in food that comes from animals/plants treated with such and have proven that the amounts are trace at most and show no significant difference between their organic counterparts.
The second reason I am troubled by her quote is because she is stepping on one type of farmer in order to promote another type of farmer. If one can afford organic food and believes it is the best option for them and their family, by all means they have the freedom to buy it and enjoy it. But when those same people choose to put down the conventional farmers in the process, I cannot be silent. I therefore chose to write a letter to the editor of the Tallahassee Democrat in response to the above published statement. It follows:
As the proud wife of an American farmer, and part owner of a small family farm in Jefferson County, I have some concerns with Cristin Burns’ quote in the article “Down on the Farm” printed on Sunday October 18. She contrasts the “conventional agribusiness way of farming” (as she puts it) with the farms on her upcoming tour that have a “philosophical belief in the way they farm and in providing products that are free from harm.” What is being left out of a loaded comment such as hers is that the conventional agribusiness way of farming (versus a purely organic farming model) is what brought America from a third world country to a first world country. It is also this exact model that keeps our grocery stores full of safe, affordable, and abundant food and therefore our fellow man from starving. Furthermore, we as traditional conventional row crop farmers most certainly have strong philosophical beliefs in the way we farm, and strive to provide products that are free from harm. I stand behind all American farmers, conventional or organic, who tirelessly work to provide the food, fiber, and now fuel that we all enjoy on a daily basis. (end of letter)
It is great that so many people have taken a recent interest in where their food comes from and also how to support local farms. In this process however, we have seen first hand that misinformation from the media can serve to negatively impact conventional American agriculture. As conventional row-crop farmers, our family plays a significant role in providing the food staples that the world needs in order to continue eating. As long as there are mouths going hungry, conventional agriculture will be what feeds these mouths. We are proud to be a part of the big picture of feeding the world.

Me and Preggers?

2009-10-18T09:00:00.000-04:00

Well, at least we know one of these ladies is expecting. But maybe both...

Back to Bumpkin Land

2009-10-17T13:19:00.000-04:00

When I was a little girl, I loved watching Little House on the Prairie (that was one of those red flags to my family that I was really a country girl at heart). I always thought it was interesting that Maw and Paw would “go into town” only every so often. I would get as excited as Laura and Mary were upon their return to see what they had brought back for them as gifts from the country store. It was usually fabric or candy. I thought that was funny…why would you need fabric? Why was candy such a big deal? I went to town daily-I lived there!
Well, now, the tables have turned. I refer to making a trip to Winn-Dixie as “going to town” and because I am out in the country, it isn’t convenient to go every day or on a whim. I don’t need fabric, but the kids do look forward to the days we go into town and they can get some little treat at the store.
Recently my parents took both children for a 3 day vacation to their house to give me a stay-cation at home. This was quite thrilling for the kids, of course, because this was 3 days of intense spoiling. They went to the zoo, the donut shop, the indoor bounce-house playground, out to eat several times, the beach, and probably several other things that they aren’t revealing. All of this took place in a much bigger city than the one they are used to, with any and everything your little heart desires within a 5 minute drive. Of course the children had to be constantly reminded not to dart out of the house into the yard without an adult. They had to be instructed on busy streets, watching out for cars and stranger-danger. They weren’t in Kansas anymore… or Jefferson county!
When they returned home, they promptly greeted each and every animal with open arms. My country mice had returned from the city! They were most amazed at the fact that the donut shop was so easily accessible…little do they realize now that there are some things that are better left uneasily accessible! And just yesterday, my 6 year old said to me at dinner, “We didn’t go anywhere in the car today!” She had become so accustomed to going, that staying just felt odd. I said, “No sweetie, everything we needed today was right here.”
I’m very grateful for the convenience of stores and shopping. Let’s face it, they are necessities of life. But it is so nice to not go anywhere in the car each and everyday just because you feel the need to go into town. And it is so nice to have all my bumpkins under one roof again.

Animal Update

2009-10-01T14:24:00.000-04:00

So many of my readers (and friends and family and extended family) have asked for an update on our animals so I think it is time.
Our four remaining chickens (of the original 9) are doing great. They are laying beautiful brown eggs daily and seem to be quite proud of themselves. The “rooster” (if you read my article several weeks ago) is not a rooster. The children and I have come to accept that now. But she is the first lady in the pecking order. When we bring them food scraps to distract them as we gather eggs, she is the one who gets first dibs on what there is to choose from. The other day I gave them a few pieces of stale French bread. It was funny to watch them eat the middle of the bread out and leave the crust! I don’t eat crust on bread, and neither do my kids, so I guess the chickens are really part of our family.
The kittens continue to leave treasures on the front door step several times a week. Recently they’ve been leaving a small green frog, no longer “with us” but perfectly in tact. I’ve told them to please leave the frogs alone…they eat bugs. So the next morning after my discussion with them, they left half of a mouse. I think I prefer the frogs.
My daughter’s vacation Bible school fish, whom she refers to as her only “pets”, are thriving. We have had a few incidents where one of the kitties was in her room and was caught with wet paws and a longing look in his eye…I think he tried to go fishing. I can say with 100% certainty that out of our 13 animals, these 2 fish are by far the easiest to take care of. Not the most entertaining, but definitely easy. And with our 3rd baby due next month, I am placing more value on the easy than the entertaining these days.
Mallory, our beloved Native American Brown Dog (a very rare breed, if you’ve never heard of it), turned 9 recently. For once being a cat hater, she is doing remarkably well handling the feline presence in her territory. She still won’t allow them to snuggle with her, but she does allow them to live, so I suppose that is more important. Snuggling can happen in time.
The three billy goats gruff are also enjoying life. The continue to have head-butting fights each morning to see who is the strongest, and after that is established, they go about grazing, sleeping, and following their Mama cow around the pasture. Whenever she goes, they follow. When she says jump, they say how high. That is just their lot in life and they don’t seem to mind it.
Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for-a Sweetums status update (and no, she isn’t on Facebook). Let me pause here and say that I get stopped in restaurants and chased down in parking lots for people to ask me, “Is the cow pregnant?” With so many people pulling for her and wondering about her, I think Sweetums has become a local celebrity. The farmer refuses to have my precious cow officially “preg-checked.” He says that all signs (and lack of certain other signs) point to her being with-calf. I do agree with him here, but I would really love to know for sure. She has not come into heat since returning to our pasture in late June. She will not allow us to skip even one scoop of corn, which she gets in the evening. If she hasn’t had her dinner, she will moo and bellow at us until we give it to her, even if it is 10 o’clock at night. Once she gets the corn, she is quiet. There was one morning when she was mooing for food, which is very unusual because she is only fed at night. I started out to go feed her and the farmer said, “You are a push over.” I said, “You don’t mess with a hungry pregnant woman. I know how she feels!” So I fed her an extra scoop of corn that morning and we exchanged a wink. Her middle is really getting big. But then again, she never misses a meal, so this could be deceiving me. Her calf, if their really is one in there, should be due in late March. So until then, or until I finally convince the farmer to get me some real proof, all I’m able to answer your questions with is, “I sure hope so!”
So there you have it. The 13 animals are all doing what they are supposed to by continuing to bring us laughter, frustration, and bewilderment. Can’t wait to see what may happen today…

Fraidy-Cat

2009-09-26T22:19:00.000-04:00

When my husband decided to take a city girl for a wife, there were a few things that he knew would need working on right away. For one, I was a scaredy-cat. For another, I was a worry-wart. Put these things together, and that makes for one irrational person. I couldn’t help it, I was from the city and people from the city have to be scared and worried at the same time in order to protect themselves!
Over the years, as my induction to country life began and I was forced to face my fears and worries, I realized how foolish some of them were. For example, I used to be scared of the dark. Not the dark inside my house, but the dark outside my house. Even my own driveway! When city folk get out of their cars at night, they either do so under the safety and cover of their garage and immediately go inside, or they walk briskly from their car without stopping until they get inside (I guess they’re scared too.)
I will never forget when the farmer told me after we first met, that he would sit outside in his driveway late at night looking at the stars, enjoying the night. I remember thinking to myself, “Aren’t you terrified out there?” So I have decided that I need to stop being scared outside at night. Over the years I have realized what is making noises that go bump in the night…owls, crickets, squirrels heading to their nests, trees moving in the wind. None of these are rational things to be scared of, so I knew I had to stop being such a wimp. Now I can actually go outside at night and really enjoy the stars- the stars in the country are incredible because of how dark the sky is. The city sky at night isn’t nearly as dark and therefore the stars don’t shine as brightly as they do in the country. So I have begun to let my irrational fears go, and to actually appreciate the darkness.
The sound of coyotes at night has never been one of my favorite sounds-especially when the cow and goats were babies, and now when we have 2 kitties that live outside. I, of course, don’t know exactly where the coyotes are, but I always imagine that they are on my front porch about to ring my doorbell. I have had to ask the farmer multiple times to go outside just to check on everyone out there when I hear the coyotes. My worries get the best of me. And he knows I’m going to keep him awake until he goes out there with a flashlight and gives me a full report, so he always accommodates me on this request. I, of course, was not going to be the one to go check!
I knew I had made great strides in my efforts to overcome city-girl fears and worries the other night. The coyotes were closer and louder than they had ever been before (or at least I perceived this to be the case). This time, I ran outside all by myself. I just knew the house was going to be surrounded by them when I got out there and I’d have to rescue my sweet kittens from their clutches. None of that happened, the kitties were under the car asleep and our dog running outside barking silenced the coyotes for the rest of the night. I still had to be brought back to reality by the farmer on all the fears that I had after coming back inside, but I gave myself a lot of credit for being the first responder.
With every situation that happens to me in bumpkin-land, I realize that I am getting closer and closer to dispelling my irrational worries and fears. And it thrilled my heart to no end when a few nights ago, my 3 year old son went outside at night, all by himself to get a sword out of the yard. He didn’t think twice about it. I tried to keep my mouth shut and not say something silly like, “Oh, let Daddy do that.” Because I want him to know that in the country, there’s nothing to be afraid of…well, until the next coyote howl at least!

If you give a mouse a kitten...

2009-09-17T22:37:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday was a rainy dreary day on the farm. We stayed inside most of the day, and by 7pm we were all feeling a little couped up (now I know how the chickens feel). I told the farmer it was time for us all to go outside to get some fresh air. The kids did not want to go out. I tried to force them and they just wouldn’t budge. So I said, fine, I’ll be on the front porch! The farmer went to feed the livestock, I sat in the rocker, and immediately heard shouting out the back door, “Edmund has a mouse! Edmund has a mouse!” Edmund is one of our little 5 month old kitties. The confusing part to me, was that Edmund was on the front porch near me and the kids were still in the house… evidently they had opened the front door, seen the poor rodent meeting his end and ran back inside and then made the announcement from the back door. I take a closer look at Edmund and sure enough, he has a mouse trapped behind our plant stand. Peter, his brother, has joined the scene and now the kids are back out front. The fat little mouse made a break for it across the porch and as the kittens chased and pounced on him, I turned around and said, “I don’t want to watch this”. 3 year old son says, “I want to!” So as anyone who has mouser-cats knows, for the next hour, the cats and mouse played cat-and-mouse. Son went to go get his sword, just in case they needed his help. I tried to ignore the whole thing, since I was trying to enjoy the “peaceful” sounds of the countryside. The cats were now growling at each other, claiming the mouse. Our dog was trying to get involved with the situation as well. My 6 year old daughter came over to me crying with tears pouring down her cheeks. “Please Mama, I want the mouse. I want to keep him. Please do something!” What?! A pet mouse? She must be kidding. The farmer says, “She didn’t cry when any of her pet chickens died, (all of whom she had named) when they were attacked by a fox or a hawk in front of her, but she’s crying over a mouse?” We took this opportunity to go over the food chain (again). We talked about how this is a cat’s natural instinct as a predator. Eventually she stopped crying. And she and my son found the giant mud pit in the drive way to play in. They got so dirty that they had to have a hose down shower outside before they were allowed inside, and all I could think about was them contracting creep interruption, or creeping eruption, or ground itch. The cold water from the hose made them get a new burst of energy right before bed time. They ran inside, soaking wet, filthy dirty, screaming all the way. They did manage to check on the status of the mouse before heading in. The poor thing was still alive, but he didn’t have long.
As soon as we all got inside, the farmer says to me, “So, how was that for some fresh air?” I had to laugh. This is my life and I love it. I’m glad that my kids can learn these lessons while they are young- it’s OK for predators to kill other animals, and it’s OK to get filthy dirty. Those are still lessons that I’m trying to learn!
Sunday morning, my son and I go out the front door to feed the cats. Sure enough, the fat mouse has found his final resting place on our door mat. I gasp. Son says, “Don’t worry, he isn’t going to move.” And so life in the country continues…

2009 Jefferson County Farm Family of the Year

2009-09-10T14:53:00.000-04:00

In 1966 Stephen's grandparents, CA and Ruby Fulford were the recipients of this award, and in 1979, Stephen's parents Gary and Donna Fulford were the recipients of this award...and now in 2009 we have received it! We will be recognized at our county farm bureau meeting next week, and also at the North Florida Fair in Tallahassee in November. Pretty cool, huh?

Jefferson Journal Article 9-11-09

2009-09-10T14:51:00.000-04:00

I didn't post last weeks since it was another blog re-run....but this week is hot off the press!

This is the time of year on the farm that I love the most. This is harvest season. All spring-long, the men on the farm plant seeds in the ground without any promise of a return on their labor. They work late into the night turning the dirt over peanuts, soybeans, corn, cotton, and grain sorghum. The countless hours of work, however, don’t amount to anything until now.
The months that pass between spring and fall are crucial to a farmer’s livelihood and also to the people who depend on the commodities they grow. Was there enough rain? Did the fertilizer work properly? Was there too much rain in one particular field? Did the stink bugs destroy the crop? There is very little that the farmer actually has control of. Even the timing of planting/spraying/harvesting is determined by favorable weather conditions. Talk about stressful job conditions!
Nonetheless, harvest time is still my favorite season. From my dining room, I can often see the men folk pulling up to 3 wagons at a time with their trucks, full of the crop they have just picked, ready for storage. It is exciting to see something come out of the ground in such large amounts. It is even more satisfying to know that the commodities grown here in Jefferson County are part of what keep the world going around. I have realized over the years of being married to the farmer, that although this job is one of the most necessary jobs in the world, it is often one of the most criticized and therefore misunderstood professions as well. Most of the time it is criticized by people who have no direct involvement in the production aspect of agriculture. But yet, everyone is involved in the consumption aspect of agriculture! (The phrase, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” comes to mind here…)
Most people do not realize the ever increasing demand on farmers to produce more food and fiber through better yields and more efficient practices. This is simply due to the ever increasing population of the world. Will the farmers do this with more land? No, farm land is constantly decreasing with population growth. Will farmers do this with more workers? No, less than 1% of America’s population is involved in production agriculture.
How will this be accomplished?
There was a great article in a recent Wall Street Journal by Norman Borlaug, a professor at Texas A&M University who won the 1970 Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions to the world food supply. He estimates that over the next four decades, the world’s population will include three billion new mouths to feed. This means the world’s farmers will have to double their current production. Again, they will need to do this with less land, less workers and increased environmental demands.
Although our farm has but a small role in the grand scheme of feeding the world, we are proud to be among the less than 1% of our country’s population that is most certainly part of the solution. And as harvest season continues here, I am grateful for what God has provided for us- the ability to farm the same land for almost 70 years and still going strong.

40 Acres and No Mule

2009-08-27T13:50:00.000-04:00

I have been reading an incredible book called 40 Acres and No Mule by Janice Holt Giles. It was written in the late 1950's by a city woman who married a country man and moved to the hills of Kentucky. She candidly tells the story of her first year on the ridge and thoroughly explains some old fashioned ways of living and working. She was not a farm girl, but was turned into one. And parts of her always longed for the comforts that she knew were part of city life. But most of her knew that she really belonged among the simple, quiet country folk of Appalachia. She reminds me of myself in a lot of ways, but yet we are quite different. She worked side by side her husband, since they had no children together and they had no mule. So she was the mule, she was his help. And she learned how to really work. I still don't feel like I know how to really work. I want to, but I work at home, and if I didn't do that work we'd all be in a sad state of affairs. One day I hope to learn to drive a tractor, and one day I hope that I will be freed up to do some manual labor along side the farmer. It just changes your perspective on life when you actually work for a living.

One of my favorite parts of the book so far is when she tells the story of working in tobacco with Henry, her husband. They had already picked the leaves and hung them to dry in the barn. They spent a few months drying, and then the two of them had to tear the leaves by hand and stack them for more drying and eventually sale. It was cold, she felt inadequate to do the job, and she was tired. She made a remark under her breath to Henry, "If people knew how much work goes into raising tobacco, they'd appreciate their cigarettes and pipes a lot more." ....."Would they?" he asked back. They had a pretty true-to-today conversation then about what people appreciate and understand about the working folk that make their life possible. She then writes an awesome explanation of it all:
"Nothing is for free! Wool, cotton, meat, vegetables, metals, lumber, cars, radios...The list is endless. Nothing is for free. Back of all of them is a great, toiling world. Toiling for necessities, for commodities, for luxuries. But toiling. I toiled in tobacco. Perhaps you toiled in cotton, or sheep, or cattle. But whatever comes to each of us in the way of material things has back of it the toil and the labor of hundreds of people. When you light a cigarette, think of me! And I'll try to think of you when I put on my wool shirt, or set my dinner table."

Oh, but if more Americans thought of the toil. The toil behind the necessities, commodities, and luxuries...

Jefferson Journal Article 8-28-09

2009-08-27T11:03:00.000-04:00

This is a blog that I posted back in January...just slightly modified for print!

Have you ever read the children's book, City Mouse Country Mouse? Well, it is one of my favorite stories because it really emphasizes the fact that some mice, or people, fit in better in the country and some fit in better in the city. When I officially moved to the country almost 5 years ago, I started calling myself 'country mouse' and my sister, who has lived in Miami for 16 years and loves it (!), 'city mouse'. And just like the story, the two of us visit each other in our respected living quarters, look around and take it all in, and say, "This is nice.... for you! But I'm happiest at home in the city/country"
So back in the winter time, the city mice decided to venture up the state to visit the country mice. Let me paint the picture for you: The city mice arrive in a sleek German-made wagon. It did get a little dirt on the tires when they drove up my driveway. The mice were all wearing very stylish clothes and were armed with the latest technological devices for travel and entertainment. They brought along with them the choicest foods only to be found in the city. They brought various other comfort items that the country mice had heard tale of, but had yet to behold with their own eyes. Everyone settled in, warming in front of the fire as it is quite cold in the countryside that time of year. As our weekend progressed, the city nephew spent most of his time outside- roaming the land, hunting and skeet shooting with farmer uncle, feeding livestock, enjoying the fresh air during the day, and the beautiful stars at night. At one point he asked his mother if they could buy some land and build a house here! City niece also spent hours outside romping in the dirt and woods, and carefully attending the goings on in the pasture. City sister enjoyed relaxing by the fire, chatting with country sister, taking a leisurely ride into town (we took the American made oversized SUV this time), eating breads made from freshly milled flour, and the occasional brisk walk through the fields. The real excitement came when city nephew and country daughter were with farmer husband when he shot a deer! (This is the second time city nephew has been with farmer husband when a deer was shot-this is the highlight of both trips for him) City sister was a little bothered by the thought of the shooting.... but she was able to get through it. The last night of the visit, after all the many, many hours of outdoor adventures and a real taste of country living, the city mice were tired. City nephew and city sister said to country sister, "Can we please watch TV? We haven't watched TV in days! We are on a media withdrawl!" We all giggled a little and I said, "Sure. You are welcome to scroll through the channels, but remember we only have the major networks." City nephew said, "What is a network?" He looked very disappointed when I explained what it was and that there were only 4 of them. But we turned on the boob tube anyway and gave it a shot.
All in all, the city mice always enjoy their time here. Honestly, they handle farm life pretty well considering where they live and what they are used to. I am very proud of them and proud they were able to endure the country mice way of life. I also have a feeling they were glad to see the bright lights of Miami again...

Dirty Dozen?

2009-08-24T11:10:00.000-04:00

You need to read this! Once again, the media puts information out to the masses that is not true and needs clarification. If you are still wondering if US conventionally grown fruits and vegetables are dangerous to your health, please read this:

http://www.fb.org/blog/index.php/2009/08/19/the_dirty_dozen_may_not_be_so_dirty

Thanks again to Roland Yee, of Yee Farms,(oriental-vegetables) from south FL, for taking a stand.

Finding Purpose in the Process

2009-08-20T07:48:00.000-04:00

published in the Jefferson Journal 8-21-09

I have always been fascinated with the old stories that are told first hand to me by people who have lived another life. They grew up in America, within the past 100 years, and yet it truly was another life. Not all the stories take place on a farm, but they all share common threads: getting by on very little, never having everything they wanted, working hard day in and day out, learning to live with disappointments and tragedy, overcoming the everyday obstacles of life, and always seeming to expect very little while hoping for the best.
When my grandmother tells me stories about her mother making all of their clothes by hand, and that a peanut butter and banana sandwich was a rare treat, I don’t really have a frame of reference for that. Nor do I quite understand the stories I hear when I am working at the nursing home. Stories from people who took a weekly bath in the Ochlocknee River, fed and watered livestock and milked the family cow before walking to school, and even a man who rolled logs down by hand through the mountains of North Carolina for his family to build their house from. To what can I compare this type of working lifestyle to… unloading the dishwasher? Putting a trashcan out by the road for the garbage men to pick up? Going through a drive-through to pick up dinner? Unfortunately, these things haven’t taught me much at all. But yet, it is the reality of my generation and it is almost impossible to pull out and away from it. Lately I feel that the prevalent obsession with a life of ease has caused an attitude of ambivalence to hard work.
I’m not a person who generally is opposed to store bought items, because I can appreciate convenience and I am a very practical person. But there are some things that I have realized are not that hard to do on your own and actually are worth the effort that you put into them. For example, I grind wheat berries to make my own flour. It isn’t hard! I don’t know that it is a cheaper alternative to store bought flour, but I believe it is a healthier option. And even more so than that, I enjoy the satisfaction of the work that I put into the process. There are so few things in life anymore that require a process, and I really think that the generations who grew up without having to appreciate the process are at a disadvantage. I got an email last week from a friend who was sending out a recipe for homemade laundry detergent. At first I thought this was absurd. Why make laundry detergent when there are shelves of the stuff at the stores? But the ingredients were cheap and easy enough to find and the process seemed like I could pull it off alone. (By this I mean nothing required farmer husband’s assistance. I have put enough drudgery on him with all my other little projects, such as the cow, that I have sort of worn out my welcome on that type of thing!) And I did. I made it and it is working beautifully. Let me tell you, bumpkins can really produce a lot of laundry. I do 10 loads a week sometimes! But when I mentioned to some friends that I had made laundry detergent, the response was shocking to me. They couldn’t believe I had all the extra time and energy to spend on something so pointless. Their argument was, why make something that you can buy? It was then I realized that the hard work involved in the process was more meaningful to me than they could understand.
We all enjoy the progress that our country has made and as a result, find ourselves in constant need of convenience. But I am trying very hard to not lose sight of the importance of learning the process of living. This may mean that I incorporate more things into my life that require some toil and sweat. Maybe this will also mean that my children won’t scoff at hard work…imagine that!

Keepin it real...

2009-08-15T14:05:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Roland Yee for alerting me to this article. Since no one will hear about it elsewhere, I must get it out to the masses!
http://www.euractiv.com/en/cap/eu-report-reveals-pesticides-organic-food/article-183986

Thinking and Knowing

2009-08-13T10:48:00.000-04:00

article published 8-14-09 Jefferson Journal

My daughter’s science lesson last week focused on magnets. One of the points of the lesson was that there is a difference between things that we “think” and things that we “know”. This was to help her learn observation techniques and to begin to learn the scientific method. Pretty deep for 1st grade, but it was amazing how well it worked. She was very surprised to find out the difference between things she “thought” about the magnets and things that she “knew” about them. That statement has stuck with me through this week, and I can’t help but apply it to the various aspects of agriculture that are part of my every day life.
For example, we have 4 chickens in our coup that survived the great fox massacre of 2009. One of those chickens looks like a rooster in many ways. The children are convinced he is a rooster. I actually think he is too. With everything he does, and every sound he makes, the kids and I are more and more sold on the thought that he is, indeed, a rooster. When we found our first egg in the coup, my 3 year old son said, “I think the rooster laid it.” We laughed. A few days later, we could have sworn we heard the beginnings of a “cock-a-doodle-doo” coming from the coup. Not the whole thing, just part of it. So my daughter and I said, “It IS a rooster!” Just last night, the “rooster” wouldn’t let my daughter get the egg out of the coup and was very protective of the other chickens, even pecked her on the leg before she could get out of there! Just one more verification to us that the chicken is a rooster. Farmer husband laughs at us, shakes his head and says, “It is not a rooster.” I guess this is a classic case of what we “think” and what we “know.” Either way, someone is wrong and deep down inside, I “think” it is the kids and me. So our observations continue.
A lot of people have been asking if our Jersey heifer is pregnant. To be honest, I’m afraid to even talk about it for fear of jinxing the whole thing. But, I know how much the inquiring minds want to know. I want to “know” too! But I don’t “know.” I only “think.” We think she is pregnant, but we haven’t done any confirmation tests to be sure. All the signs of non-pregnancy haven’t shown up since she returned from her vacation with the gentlemen callers. She is looking fat and seems more content with life than she ever has before. Even my kids will say, “I think she’s pregnant.” But I can’t help but think to myself that it really doesn’t matter what we “think” about this situation- We simply don’t know!
In the past few years farmer-husband and I have become very passionate about the safety, affordability, and the abundance of our American food and fiber supply. We, and all the other American farmers, experience first hand the effects of what people “think” about these things, and what they “know” about them. There are certain myths that the media and marketing groups circulate and perpetuate that have been devastating to dairy farmers, cattle ranchers, and fruit/vegetable producers. These myths mainly pertain to the safety of our American food supply. I would ask each one of you who reads this to think critically when it comes to your food choices. Do you buy or avoid certain foods because of what you think is true about them, or because you know what is true about them? If you don’t know for sure, go straight to the source instead of the media-ask a farmer! I always do.
I have the privilege of homeschooling my children, and have found that so much of what I am teaching them, I am re-learning myself. Why is it that what we learn as kids just doesn’t seem to sink in until we are grown? Through their experiences on the farm and in the country, they will have the opportunity to learn the difference between “thinking” and “knowing” and hopefully I will too.

The Next Level

2009-08-12T14:05:00.000-04:00

It has been made very clear to me that it is time the bumpkin made some changes. This bumpkin loves change, so I am excited about it. I have created a group on facebook, The Farmer Takes A Wife, so please join if you are on there. I am also going to be posting my weekly articles that I write for the Monticello News/Jefferson Journal, which are published every Friday. Farmer husband told me that I could probably have quite a Twitter following, but then he laughed, so I'm not sure if he was serious. I'll have to think about that one.

I am going to be adding pictures more frequently, and doing more updates. I am facing the fact- people love the bumpkin. They want more of her! And far be it from me to keep all my fans wanting more. For example, I was called this morning by a lady in our county and the conversation started out just like so many conversations that I am having lately..."Is this the Farmer's Wife? Well, you don't know me, but I LOVE your articles honey!" But then she went on to ask me if I would speak at her church for a senior luncheon in September! OMG! The bumpkin's first speaking gig! I said sure, and she said she really loved my most recent article and wanted me to expound on that. So, folks, I don't know what is next for me, but you better join my facebook group now so you can say that you knew me when!

Here is the latest article:
I did quite a bit of babysitting growing up and I always knew I wanted to have children. I didn’t see myself with an extremely large family, but a few kids and maybe even a family dog sounded fine to me. With our third child on the way, the “few kids” part is still within reason. The one family dog part is what has been the biggest surprise to me. We currently have 13 additional mouths to feed apart from the humans that sit at the dinner table. The last 2 were acquired this week from vacation Bible school…2 gold fish. Our 6 year old daughter was gazing into the fish tank that she keeps in her room and said sweetly, “I am so glad I got these fish…I’ve always wanted a pet.” I had to laugh… from her perspective, the cow, 3 goats, 4 chickens, 2 kittens, and 1 dog weren’t pets because they didn’t permanently reside in her bedroom.
This got me thinking about how we interpret our childhood once we are grown-up. It made me wonder, what will my children remember? What will be the highlights of their life on the farm? Evidently, it won’t be the abundance of animals they were able to take care of. My childhood memories revolve around living in a city neighborhood and so they are very different from my husband’s. He remembers things like spending time with the men-folk in his family, watching and learning farm skills and listening to conversations about farm decisions; all the trips to the tractor store and getting an orange soda in a bottle each time. He remembers the freedom of playing outdoors alone and learning to drive at an early age. But there were also the memories of his Dad working late and missing dinner during planting and harvest time and an argument he had with his grandfather about taking a lunch break when there was work to do. He watched the farm transform through the years as the beef cows and hogs would come and go and the crops would change with the economy. These are all the things that I found so intriguing about him when we met- he had lived a full life before he was even 21! He knew about history, science, politics, machinery, the outdoors, and of course agriculture. He learned it all right here on the farm in Jefferson County.
I didn’t have a whole lot of life experiences that could stand up to his. I had lived a great life in the city, in my neighborhood and with my family prior to living on the farm. But the more I got to know the farmer, the more I realized how much I had missed by my lack of experience with the “real world.” For me, that meant stepping off of the pavement into the dirt and clay rather than the other way around.
When you get down to the basics of life you realize that it is made up of ebbing and flowing, coming and going, good years and bad, joy and pain, giving and getting. These are the principals of life, and they are taught to me and my family every day in the country and on the farm. The depth of those lessons are hard to come by in the city when you have to fight traffic, fight growth, and fight your neighbor. I’m not saying life is a perfect utopia out here, but it is real and honest, and you don’t have to search long to find the meaning in it.
So what will my kids remember about their childhood? I hope they remember their “pets”, but I also hope they take with them the valuable lessons that can’t be bought with an education or trips around the globe. All they ever need to know can be taught to them right here in the woods, pastures, and dirt roads of the country.

First Day of Peanut Season

2009-08-03T18:37:00.000-04:00

Here they are folks...the coveted goobers...freshly boiled green peanuts...and they are goooooooooooooooooood

Clayton Asbury Fulford, Jr 11-7-1921 -- 06-25-2009

2009-06-27T08:54:00.000-04:00

The road that led to me becoming a certified bumpkin has been paved by many people and events. I was certainly always drawn to country life, although I had no real reason to be. Of course, meeting and marrying farmer-husband has led to only further deepening my love for country living and the life it provides. But before my life even began, there were events taking place that would eventually lead me to the life I’ve grown to love, my life here on our farm.
In 1945, a young service man had just been honorably discharged from the Navy Reserves. He had a young wife and a new baby. He was born and raised in Monticello, on South Waukeenah St., and so to Monticello he returned to start his new life. At a time when most of America was leaving the farm for urban industrial life, he moved to the country and purchased 120 acres of land on a dirt road with no name in the north end of Jefferson County. There was a small house that had belonged to a share cropper on the property. There was no electricity in the house. There was no running water. The man had 2 mules and he planned to start a peanut farm. This man was CA Fulford, my husband’s grandfather, and he passed away quietly this past week into heaven.
Mr. CA, as he was known to almost everyone, dedicated most of his life to farming. Although he started out meagerly, his farm became one of the most successful farming operations in the county during the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. From what is said about him, this can be attributed to his dedication to hard-work, fair treatment toward his employees, and faith in the Lord. He was mainly a peanut farmer, and that is what he is still known for today, but he also grew watermelons, tobacco, soybeans, corn, cotton, grain sorghum, wheat, hay, and at times even raised hogs and beef cattle. The only day he officially took off was Sunday, but my husband remembers that CA always carried a cane pole and a can of worms in his truck just in case a fishin’ hole tempted him while he was out working.
Mr. CA had 2 sons who eventually carried on the farming operation when they were of age. Those 2 sons each had a son who eventually carried on the farming operation as well. One of those is my husband, and that is of course how I got here. This past week, as we have reflected on Mr. CA’s life, I find myself marveling at the fact that a mere 65 years have passed since this farm as we know it first began. So many changes have taken place in that short period of time. He first purchased 120 acres of land; we now farm 1800 acres. He used one mule in the morning and one mule in the afternoon to plow and plant his fields; we now use tractors with as much computer equipment as the space shuttle complete with GPS guidance to boot! He didn’t have electricity; our tractors and our homes are kept cool by air conditioning. He liked to tell jokes and play the harmonica; we don’t know any jokes and we certainly can’t play the harmonica like he could.
I have thought over and over how thankful I am that he took the chances that he did, that he farmed the way he did, that he treated people the way he did, and that he chose to live his life the way he did. Without that, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today, out in the country living my dream as a bumpkin. It was his sacrifices, his hard work, and his aching back at the end of the day that made it possible for this farm to survive as long as it has. This farm has a bright future ahead, and I wish he could see his great-grandchildren living here and enjoying the legacy he created for all of us.
Twelve years ago, when I first met Grandaddy, as we called him, he was boiling peanuts on the stove, and drinking a Pepsi. At that moment, I had no idea my life would turn out the way it did nor did I think that I would one day need to thank him for the way he paved for me. But I thank him now, from the bottom of my heart, and I hope that we are all making him proud by the way the farm continues on in his honor and memory.
Mr. CA Fulford, may you rest in peace forever!

Bringing Home Sweetums

2009-06-10T20:00:00.000-04:00

I don't have a lot to report because not a lot has happened. Saturday was a frustrating day. Hubby went down to the bull pen with both kids in tow to bring Sweetums home. He was being sweet to let me have some time alone at home, but later I learned that I should always be around when events involving my heifer are unfolding. He got another flat tire on the trailer on the way there, which was the first thorn in his side. Then, once they got there, Sweetums wouldn't load in the trailer. This time he didn't have a goat. He did have peanuts, though, which she cared nothing for. He pulled and pulled, but she wouldn't budge. He slapped her rear. He yelled. He pushed. She flat out was not going to come home with him. After an hour of this foolishness and mayhem, he left. I received a few text messages warning me that she was not with him and that it hadn't gone well. I felt horrible. I am so appreciative for all he does for my little projects, and I can't do anything to help sometimes. So she will stay there for a few more weeks so she can go through another cycle just in case she still isn't preggers.

Right now, we are frustrated with this whole process. I miss her mooing, I find myself looking for her in the pasture, the kids ask about her. We miss her. But at the same time, we are so frustrated because we know it may be the end of the road for us and the milk cow.

:(

A Romantic Weekend Getaway

2009-05-28T18:43:00.000-04:00

I have been listening to country music for about 15 years. In high school I wore Wrangler jeans, line danced, and even went to a rodeo. I thought, for awhile, that this basically qualified me to be a country girl. Now that I have been a farmers wife for 11 years and actually lived in the country, I realize that I was way off base. I was dead wrong. You can't just be a bumpkin because you want to. You have to go through bumpkin initiation. I'm not sure how long this trial period lasts, because I am still going through it. I can tell you that the series of tests that I have been through recently, have been quite rigorous. There have been moments where I questioned myself as a bumpkin and feared that my status as one was going to come to a screeching halt.

There was the test of the 5 chickens being eaten by a fox in a 36 hour period this past week. There was the test of so much rain that we couldn't plant anything and farmer-husband is further behind on planting than he was 2 years ago during the 50 year drought. But the test today was the worst. It was the day that we had to take Sweetums to the bull pen to try to do things the ol' fashioned way. We have AI'd 3 times, 2x unsuccessfully. We aren't sure if the 3rd time worked or not, but we didn't want her to go in heat here at the house if it turns out she isn't pregnant. We didn't want to do AI again, so we arranged for her to spend a few days with some Jersey bulls that live in the south end of the county. Now, granted, we won't know what bull gets her pregnant, and we won't really know if the AI worked or not....if she ends up pregnant.

So we get a small cattle trailor from a guy named "Luck" and attempt to load a cow into a trailor who has never been in one before. To make that long story short, we put one of the goats in there and she finally walked in and then we took the goat out. So we set off on our 30 mile journey to the bull pen. Farmer hubby, me, sister of farmer hubby, daughter, and niece (who keeps referring to the fact that Sweetums is going to get a 'mate' and daughter keeps saying what? what is a mate?) Sweet girl mooed the whole way there, and as we approached the beautiful 80 acre pasture, we notice we have a flat tire on the trailer. (Thank goodness for Paw Paw who through a spare tire into the back of the truck as we headed out) Just par for the course of an afternoon in bumpkinland.

We drive through the gate, and start driving around until we see the bulls. Hubby says- We've arrived at the Romantic Weekend Getaway! There were 5 bulls and 1 heifer (I guess she was also there for the same reasons). They were very curious as hubby let Sweetums out of the trailer. In fact, he opened the gate and all at once the bulls charged the trailer and hubby ran and jumped into the bed of the truck. They chased her around for awhile and she ran and ran... none of them quite knew what to make of her. She is so pretty, so sleek. I think the heifer that was in there was jealous of her. She actually chased her more than the bulls did. But every now and then Sweetums would stop and graze and look at us. We watched this go on for awhile. I was scared. I didn't like to see her in this situation, where she had no idea what to do or why she was there. She hasn't seen a cow in 2 years, when she was 1 week old. I kept humanizing the situation, which is not right. But I couldn't help it. We finally headed out of the pasture, and just when I thought we were out of sight of all of them, Sweetums comes running after us. With the bull herd hot on her trail. Great. Now, I'm about to cry, and farmer hubby is thinking how in the world are we going to get out of here? (don't forget-we still have the flat tire to contend with)

We got to the gate, Sweetums was there looking at us as if she didn't want us to go. It was like the church nursery with a toddler. Hubby gets out, opens the gate, pushes her aside...says to me "DRIVE!" and I floor it out of the gate and he manages to get the gate shut and locked without any escapees. Those bulls had probably never even been down to the gate before!

So then we change the flat, and they are all there watching us. And watching her. Excuse me, 'we' didn't change a flat, you know what I mean. And she would eat, and she seemed calm. Well, calm enough. She wasn't distraught, or mooing a lot, or acting strange. So I was OK with that. But I just sat in the truck, swatting yellow flies, trying not to think about all the 'what ifs' that could happen while I was away from my 700 pound baby.

We drove away, and she chased us down the fence line. Running wide open. That was almost too much for me. In fact, I don't want to go on about that, I can't think about it.

Hubby says, "If you go in there to check on her..." And then he stops. He sees my face looking at him like he has 3 heads. "Oh, I guess you aren't going to go in there." Ummm...no. Not a bloody chance in the pit of Hades! Not by myself anyway! Who does he think he is married to? Annie Oakley? I do have a line that I don't cross, and bull pens is WAY past that line.

We are planning to ALL go check on her on Saturday to see if she is in heat, and to see if there is any action happening. There is a really pretty young Jersey bull that I think had his eye on her. I am hoping for him to be the 'mate'.

I hope she is laying down right now, chewing cud, enjoying the south end of the county. We sure do miss her.

Mother's Day blues

2009-05-10T16:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday afternoon, it became more and more apparent that Sweetums was indeed coming into heat. We had a political event last night for Congressman Adam Putnam who is running for Florida Commissioner of Agriculture in 2010, so we had to leave the house. We called Tony, and scheduled him to come this morning at 730. This was a little disappointing for us, because we really hoped that this second time would take. Tony was confident as well, but it didn't work. It is very hard to realize that a dream you have may not come true. I know, I know...duh, that is life, right? But this isn't something I thought would be so difficult to actually accomplish.

Last night we secured a few Jersey gentleman who are in a pasture in the south end of the county who could use a little company. So the plan is that 2 weeks from now, right before she would come into heat, we will take her down there for a few days. I will be checking on her EVERY DAY and bringing her a snack as well. That way I can also tell if she comes in heat and therefore know if she gets pregnant by the bulls or by AI.

So we are continuing to keep hope alive.

Good Lord Willin', next Mother's Day I will be celebrating this day right along with Sweetums.

All good signs...

2009-05-08T15:45:00.000-04:00

Well, there is NO mooing. No pacing. No desperation. Wha hoo! I still can't get my hopes up completely... we need a little more confirmation, but for today, I'm happy.

I spent the morning at an all Jersey dairy in Moultrie, GA - check them out http://www.sparkmanscreamvalley.com - and I just loved seeing all those happy Jersey's all together... their gentleman caller bull was even among the herd, and man, when he walked in, the ladies perked up! Too funny. We got to pet a calf, who reminded me so much of Sweetums 2 years ago... just too precious for words.

I spent quite a bit of time bending their ear on my predicament here, and I got a lot of encouragement that it may take several tries with AI. They told me a story that they AI'd a cow 15 times... she was such a good milk cow they didn't want to let her go, so they were very hopeful that just one more time it would take. Never did. So they put her with the bull. She was pregnant 2 weeks later. So, I felt good about my baby.

In the words of Jesse Jackson, "Keep Hope Alive!" That's what I'm doin today!

On the eve of her 21st day

2009-05-07T18:30:00.000-04:00

I have to admit, I am nervous. VERY nervous. I have watched her all day, looking for any sign that she may come in heat tomorrow. She is acting natural right now. She looks fat. Oh, brother. I just am so scared that she will not be able to get pregnant. Farmer-hubby and I talked about our plan of action if this time fails again. Do we phone Tony? Do we just take her to a bull and try that? It isn't an easy decision, because timing is everything, and the further we push this into the summer...that means her baby will be born later into the spring.... etc. I think I'm going to go check her rear again, see if I see anything clear.

The kids and I are going to a Jersey dairy tomorrow to take a tour with our homeschool group. If she's mooing in the morning before we leave, going there and seeing the calves will be depressing. If she is quiet, going there and seeing the calves will make me hopeful. If I come home and she's mooing, I may cry. If I come home and she's quiet, I may cry!

Oh Sweetums. Sweet sweet girl.

Chance Airplane Meetings

2009-04-28T16:00:00.000-04:00

(This is my article for our local paper for 5-1-09)

I did something very un-bumpkin-like this past weekend. I traveled on a plane to visit my sister-in-law, Stephanie Fulford Gault, in Jackson, Mississippi. Bumpkins don’t normally travel, let alone to go see a live theater production of the musical Oliver! (Stephanie played Nancy and stole the show), so I guess I’m only half bumpkin after all. Meeting people on a plane can usually go one of three ways. Either you meet someone who wants to tell you everything about their life, you meet someone who wants to know everything about yours, or you don’t speak at all to the strangers next to or around you. For me, it usually goes the second way.
On my flight from Jackson to Atlanta, I sat next to a gal similar in age to me, so it was natural for us to strike up a conversation. Once we got past the initial small talk, I waited for the inevitable question: “So, what do you do?” And then I brace myself for the conversation to follow. I am pretty comfortable now with “the farm talk” that I have to give to most people. I have listened to my husband give the talk so many times now that I sound like the expert! “The talk” usually consists of a Q & A session on the crops we grow, the animals we have, if I grew up on a farm, what I think of it, how wonderful it must be, etc. I usually throw in a few little known facts that impress people to seal the deal. For example, did you know there are four different types of peanuts? Did you know that a peanut is actually a bean and not a nut? Or did you know that cows don’t produce milk until they’ve had a calf? What about this one… I bet you didn’t know 98% of all American farms are family operations! So we got through all of that rather quickly, and I heard her fascinating tale of her job as a “personal assistant” to an extremely wealthy couple in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. She gets paid a salary to run errands, accompany them on trips (to run their vacation errands), ensure that the housekeeper and personal chef are doing their jobs properly, make phone calls for them, etc. I was as fascinated with her life as she was with mine. And I was pretty proud of myself for giving “the talk” so well.
When I sat down on my flight from Atlanta to Valdosta, I had no idea at what was ahead of me. When my small talk was over with the man next to me, and I had broken the news to him that my husband was a full time farmer, he asked what types of crops we grow. I replied, “peanuts, cotton, corn, sorghum, and soybeans.” He smiled and said, “I work for the University of Georgia as a peanut specialist. What type of peanuts do you grow?”
You can imagine the look on my face when I realized that I was no longer the expert on the farm talk. I was talking to the expert! He casually asked me all sorts of questions that are not part of my usual farm talk. I was definitely in unfamiliar territory. This was a Q & A session for my husband, not me! I am still in shock that my brain didn’t completely freeze up. I was able to answer him and he seemed satisfied with my answers. I even remembered that the specific variety of dry peanuts that we grow is called Georgia Green and we’ve had great success with them, and also that our most problematic weed was “pig weed”. I was really on a role here. I was secretly hoping that the questions were over, because I knew I was getting very close to the end of my knowledge. Lucky for me, he spent the rest of the flight talking about his life.
When I got home and told farmer-husband all about it, he told me there are probably about 25 peanut specialists in the entire US. So my chances of ever meeting one again on a plane are very slim. In the meantime, however, I plan to promptly read and memorize all our back issues of “Peanut Farmer” that sit idle in the magazine stack just in case.

News Update

2009-04-17T14:49:00.000-04:00

Just yesterday, I was bragging to friends that today would be the 21 day mark since Tony had been here. Sweetums had been laying down so much over the past few weeks, taking lots of breaks from the goats, and obviously in a different state of mind. I thought for sure she was "in the motherly way" or whatever that saying is.

First thing this morning, though, she began pacing the fence, watching the house. Then the mooing started. Then the desperate mooing followed. I was so disappointed. By noon, this had not let up, and I convinced farmer-hubby to call Tony. She has apparently come in to heat again which means...no calf.

But good ol' Tony was available this afternoon at 3:30, and after checking with Sweetums she said really anytime was fine with her, so he should be on his way. I think this time I'm going with the more expensive semen. I don't know why, but hey- why not.

I'm trying to think on the bright side, and the only thing I can come up with is that at least this might put a few more weeks between Sweetums' baby and my baby, which can only be better on us when it comes time for her to deliver.

I drove by a pasture today that was what is referred to by ranchers as a "cow/calf operation". There were probably 50 calves all laying down in their "nursery" area being watched by 4 or 5 momma's. The other momma's were off eating, taking their break. This is such an incredible phenomenon that cows do...next time you drive by a field, see if there is a nursery and you will smile. It is kind of like their version of Mom's morning out. But when I saw those babies, it made me so sad that Sweetums wasn't pregnant. I felt like a woman who was hiring a surrogate mother to have a baby for her and the surrogate couldn't conceive! I looked at the calves and said, "Why was it so easy for you?!"

Then I got a grip. We've only tried 1 time, and I have a really good feeling about today. Well, Tony is pulling up...and my life continues...

Tony has done the deed again, and is on his way home. Same exact process as last time, except the following commentary that I got from Tony afterward:
"She has a real crooked cervix. Real crooked. I really had to weave my way in there. But she was in a good heat, and I think this time we will have success."

Now, I'm really not trying to give TMI, but for those of you who know me personally and know my 2 birth stories well, you can imagine what was going through my mind when he mentioned a 'real crooked cervix.' He did go on later to say that it isn't that uncommon in Jersey's but hers was especially so. I asked his advice on how many times we try. He said he'd give it one more shot after this time, and then put her with a bull. He also said most heifers have a 70% success rate of first time conception with AI. So, we were in the 30%. But Tony is hopeful, and I am hopeful.

We then went on to talk about animal welfare, the recent tea-parties on tax day, religious beliefs, discipling children... you know, typical non-controversial small talk. The more we get to know Tony, the more we like him. I can't think of a better AI tech for my sweet girl.

Sweetums is laying down in the pasture now, enjoying a smoke. (that one is for you Dad)

Lady Sweetums

2009-03-27T18:06:00.000-04:00

This afternoon was the 72 hour mark for Sweetums' hormone shot. She had started mooing a little, so we called Tony. At about 530 pm, Sweetums became a woman. Hopefully, she will no longer be a heifer, but will now be a true cow. Ok, ok. Let me get to the nitty gritty. I know you want to hear it!

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT LOOK AT THESE PICTURES IF YOU ARE EATING

This story is also not for the faint of heart. I used to belong to that group, but I am now in the group of people who don't even flinch at this kind of thing (yea right). I am now a farm girl who isn't grossed out by anything (except for everything nasty). So I apologize if I am a bit graphic, because it doesn't phase me one little bit ( actually,I had my left hand clasped so tight across my mouth during the whole thing just to keep from screaming in disgust).

Ok, so Tony has the can of liquid nitrogen in the back of the truck, the long glove, and a long metal straw/syringe apparatus. Sounds simple enough. Sweetums is happily eating her peanuts in the chute...goats are occupied...kids are asking "Is she getting another shot?" I say, Sorta. They are satisfied with that answer for now. Tony opens the gate on the chute, puts the straw/syringe that is holding the semen IN HIS MOUTH as if it is a rose ( I guess Tony understands the ladies)and begins the process of putting his arm up her rear end. I took pictures with my right hand, and had my left hand over my mouth as stated earlier. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The kids have climbed the fence half way, like good farm kids do, to get a better look at the goings on. Daughter yells out, "Why is he putting the glove in her bottom?!" Son, hearing her say bottom, yells out "BOTTOM? YUCK!" And he laughs. I'm still in my same position with the hand over my mouth. Can't talk, can't look and yet can't not look. The process of getting the arm in took a few minutes I'd say, at the most. Then, the semen straw goes in under the arm, and squirt! - arm out, glove off, wham-bam-thank-you-mam... Just another day in the life of Tony.

I look at daughter. She has a really freaked out look on her face. "That was WEIRD," she said. I laughed. Yes, darling, that was weird.

Farmer-hubby says, she didn't seem to mind that one bit! Tony laughs, "No, no she didn't. She was definitely in heat."

At that point I was able to attend better to the children's questions... here is my brilliant explanation: there is a little tiny baby calf in that shot that you can't see with your eyes it is so small. He puts it in her belly and it will grow into a big baby calf. It will take a long time. And that is all I said. They went on about their business. That is what I LOVE about farm kids. They just accept life as it is.

So Tony stands around talking to us for awhile, while I drill him with questions about fresh milk, his life story, you know small talk. And Sweetums stood at the fence staring at him. She didn't take her eyes off him. Farmer hubby jokes with Tony and says, "Finally she doesn't have a crush on me anymore-its you now!" She just stood there, listening to our conversation. I think she was thinking to herself..."I wonder if he'll call me tomorrow."

I gotta say, this was a pretty painless experience (for me!) over all. Once we got Tony's name, this process has been a breeze. I was so anxious that we wouldn't ever be able to get her pregnant. I am trusting in the good ol' birds and the bees, and saying a little prayer that we have a little (heifer) embryo forming as I write! I will update her status as it becomes available.

Tony put the glove in the back of his truck and drove off saying, "Holler at me if she comes in heat in about 21 days! If not, I'll preg check her at about 60!"

10-4 good buddy.

The Shot has been given-now we wait

2009-03-24T15:50:00.000-04:00

We met Tony today, and his buddy Allen Boyd. Now, the ironic thing is that our US Congressman representing our district is named Allen Boyd. This was not the congressman Allen Boyd who came to give a hormone shot. But, I digress. Farmer-husband had already put Sweetums in her new chute/milking stall. She had a treat of peanuts and corn in her food bowl to keep her occupied during the procedure. It was really a quick and dirty process. He lifted her tail up (as you can see in the picture) and then he gave her the shot. She did move around some, but not anything like what I had pictured in my worst case scenerio, where I had her coming up over the sides of the stall and several large men having to man-handle her to get the shot done.

Tony said we should see her in heat within 48-72 hours. Then, we give him a call and the real deed is done. So, hopefully on Friday afternoon I will be posting another story!

The real benefit to all this is that Tony and Allen Boyd were able to give me some good solid information on the sale of raw milk. It has been hard to get this info, so I was excited to get it. Alls I got to do is get a pet food license, label the milk for pet consumption only, and cha-ching! Maybe we can recoup some of the cha-ching that has already been paid.

My New Gig

2009-03-19T13:26:00.000-04:00

First and foremost, I have to let you know that Sweetums' first date was postponed to this coming Tuesday... the details surrounding this involved a few "missed signs" that forced us to cancel this week's happenings. As promised earlier, the story and pictures will follow!

Now, for my big reveal! I have landed the opportunity to write a weekly article for our local newspaper. I am very excited about this because it is something I have thought about for a long time. The nature of the article will be very similar to this blog. Mainly light-hearted stories about my farm life, with some educational and pertinent agriculture issues thrown in there. It will run every Friday, with the heading of "The Farmer Takes a Wife" and my picture! Pretty cool, huh?

I am still deciding what my debut article will be about...should I shock people? Make people laugh? Educate them? Inform them? I'm still deciding. Hopefully I will win them!

Thank you to my faithful readers for all your comments and feedback- keep reading!

Sweetums is going all the way

2009-03-12T16:04:00.000-04:00

2 years ago, I had the crazy idea to get a family milk cow. I read up on the subject (a little). I thought about the details of it all (well, not really). I talked to people who were "experts" (OK, 1 person). And then I put my name on the waiting list at a Jersey dairy for newborn heifers they weren't going to keep (mainly because they were born later than the majority of their calves and didn't fit in with the schedule of the dairy). Then I waited. I figured nothing would come of it. Then the phone call came. "Tracie, we have 2 calves that are 1 week old. Are you interested in them? If so, you need to make your decision by tomorrow because there are other people that have already said they would buy them if you choose not to."

Ummmmm......honey? Can I get a calf?
When?

Ummmmm......tomorrow?
I guess.

That is my sweet husband for you. And he made it all happen. The initial pen for her, the equiptment, the de-worming... but the feeding and the loving was all me. I bottle fed her for 3 months. I brushed her, cuddled her, talked to her. She went from the size of a labrodor to about the size of a great dane and now she is about 500 pounds.

Last year, we realized how lonely herd animals get without a herd. Sweetums needed friends. We got 3 baby goats (from the sister dairy that Sweetums was born at)and almost immediately, she became their mother. All for the milk that is. (No, cows are not born giving milk. They get it the same way humans do.) We bottle fed the goats as well. Now our herd of 4 spends their days happily walking the pasture, chewing cud, and generally conducting themselves in a manner that I refer to as "foolishness and mayhem."

Sweetums still knows me as her mother. I can brush her and pet her and talk to her and she listens. I love to watch her mother the goats, because she is so much like a human mother. She worries about them, makes sure they are staying with her, but she also takes a break from them when she needs it. And she'll lower her head on them and use her horns if she has to.

Well the time has come now for Sweetums to start earning her keep. It is time for her to get pregnant, deliver a healthy calf, and give us the white gold we've been waiting so long for. I have called around as best as I could trying to find a way to get her pregnant. It hasn't been easy. Vets, ranchers, dairies, internet searches... nothin. Sweet husband suggested last night, "Why don't we put it on craigslist?" He posted a wanted ad for an AI technician for a Jersey calf. And within 1 hour, we received an email with a name and number of AI tech in our area. And this afternoon we got a phone call from Tony. And Tony is coming on Tuesday.

Let me go ahead and answer some questions I know you all have:
1. She is going to be artificially inseminated with Jersey semen, so her calf will be small and pure bred.
2. She will carry her calf for 9 months 10 days.
3. She will have milk after the calf is born.

I am very nervous. I am very excited. I am already laughing at the "foolishness and mayhem" that will ensue during the ordeal. Don't worry, pictures and the full disclosure of the story will follow!

Saturday morning in the countryside

2009-02-28T09:18:00.000-05:00

"Catch for us the foxes,
the little foxes
that ruin the vineyards,
our vineyards that are in bloom." Song of Soloman 2:15

In an effort to live up to the preconceived notion that all farmers wives fix a gigantic and hearty breakfast every morning as they send out their strapping farmer to the field for a grueling day of driving mules, I had planned to fix store-bought bacon (the farmer won't stand for me having hogs), fresh eggs, and biscuits from my freshly ground flour. I mean, it is Saturday after all. Even the folks in Suburbia realize that Saturday morning calls for a big breakfast.

It was 715, I was getting things going in the kitchen, coffee was brewing...-warning: Tracie has not yet had her coffee. Proceed with caution- kids are watching cartoons on TV, farmer is still sleeping. I hear a big, heavy THUD at the back door. The same back door that the goats were trying to break into a few weeks back. Now, we quite frequently have birds that will fly into our back door or any of our large windows that line the back of our house. So the thud sound is not really something new, and when I heard it I knew that a bird had flown into the window. Upon turning my head slowly to the left, I see that the bird was our precious Crystal. Daughter's favorite chicken, my favorite chicken, and 1 of 2 chickens left. She is a type of feather-footed Bantam, white with a bright red comb. She is small, lays small eggs, and is a survivor. Some how, she and the other smallest chicken of the original 8 ("The Mother" is her name)are our only survivors left. Talk about survival of the fittest. These ladies fly. I mean really fly. We have seen them fly the entire length of the pasture, catching pretty good air. They make us smile, and yet I know they have witnessed the tragic deaths of their flock members and have no doubt gone to great lengths to escape death themselves. Which is exactly what Crystal was doing at the time of the THUD.

I am at the back door now, Crystal is flapping like crazy on the ground and there is a beautiful reddish-brown fluffy-tailed fox trying to kill her. There is flapping, chasing, cornering, and there is also screaming. And pounding. I am screaming at the top of my lungs "NO NO NO NO!" and I am pounding the window of the door with both hands as hard as I can. I later remembered that this is what City Mouse sister did the night a man was trying to break into her house and he was on the outside of the door and she was on the inside. I guess it is just what one does when trouble is too close for comfort. And all I could think, was that I was not going to be able to prevent this death from occuring. I knew that the end was near, all the fox had to do was grab her by the neck and run off. I just knew that was going to happen any second and that the kids would be watching. But I kept pounding and screaming anyway.

My screaming and pounding worked- 2 fold. The fox darted off a bit, and farmer came RUNNING from the bedroom (having no idea what is the matter). The whole family is now at the back door, door is opened, farmer is yelling, fox is heading for the hills, Crystal flies in the house. I catch Crystal, holding onto her for dear life (literally) and she is snuggled into me, trembling. She and I had a bonding moment. For those of you who know chickens, you know that not only do they not enjoy being held or cuddled, they aren't really capable of showing you that "unconditional love" that say, dogs do. So, that was a really special moment for me and Crystal. Farmer is outside now, fox has jumped through the small square holes in the fence (foxes are a lot smaller up close than you city slickers might think)and is heading toward the back of the pasture near the pond. I blurt out, "Where is Big Mama and the goats?" 3 year old son says with a trembling voice, "Maybe the fox got 'em". This made daughter and I chuckle. When the fox got to the clear other side of the pasture and pond, she turned and looked back at us, I suppose she was willing to give it one more chance if we had gone away.

I put Crystal down outside and get my shoes on. I wanted to go see if the Mother can be found. I also wanted to put Crystal in the coup for the day, and get the Mother in there as well, if she was still alive. At first Crystal just hid in the corner of of back door, not moving. Poor Crystal!She then got the courage to run into the woods and found a small little tent like hole that another animal had built for protection. She hunkered down and was safe. She knew now was not the time to peck the ground, now was the time for hunkering down. Farmer was scouring the woods for the fox, but we both knew she was long gone. We got Crystal out from hiding, locked her in the coup. The Mother came running from the woods, along with the other beasts. I was relieved. We caught her too and locked her up. I reminded Sweeetums that she not only had the 3 billy goats to keep up with, but the lady birds as well. She gave a low and understanding, "Mrrr." (Because cows actually say "mrrr" not "mooo")

Farmer thinks it was a mamma, needing to feed her babies, and we mothers know how important it is to feed our babies. So I don't fault her at all for merely doing what she knew she had to. It is one thing to know and accept the circle of life, yet another to watch it on the Discovery Channel, but when it is happening at your back door, there is nothing quite like it. I explained to the children that the fox is not "bad". She is doing what God created her to do. They understood, but they were so relieved that Crystal lived to see another day. I know it is her flying ability that saved her. I think she flew quite a long ways, with the fox chasing her on the ground, and then our back door stopped her.

I went back in, to return to breakfast and get my coffee. I pulled out the tray of fresh eggs from the fridge knowing they weren't our last. And then I pitied all the suburbia suckers at Starbucks this morning-they just don't know what they are missing out in the countryside.

Food Check Out Week

2009-02-19T13:56:00.000-05:00

Last week, all across the country, county Farm Bureau organizations made a concentrated effort to educate the public on our safe, affordable, and abundant food supply that we enjoy in the United States. The reason for doing it in Feburary, specifically the 3rd week each year, is quite interesting. Here in the US, the average person spends less than 10% of our income on our food. By this time of the month, we have earned enough money from January 1st until the third week in February, to pay for our entire year's worth of food. It may seem like each time you visit the grocery store, something costs more than the previous week. But we still enjoy the most affordable food supply in the world.

Have you thanked your farmer today?

A Well Beaten Path

2009-02-16T15:34:00.000-05:00

To say I have learned a lot from having animals as part of my family would be a complete understatement. I really don't know how to convey to you what they have taught me, explained to me, evoked in me, and showed me. As of late, the farmer and I have been most entertained by the cliches, sayings, phrases, etc that are so common to us all and yet, really not fully understood until you see where so many of them originated- in farm animals. I'm not sure if 'well beaten path' came from the farm, but I wanted to show it to you all, in its most primitive form. We have a 5 acre pasture for the jersey heifer, the 3 goats and the 2 remaining chickens. Everyone but the chickens have literally worn a path that goes along the fence line through the pasture. This is the path they take every morning as they journey down to the woods, and every afternoon as they make their way home for dinner. Sure, they wander out into the grassy area to graze and rest, but when they are walking, by golly they are on the path. Talk about 'creatures of habit'! Our Native American Brown Dog, Mallory, also has a pathway that she takes out the back door. You can't see it as well because she weighs a mere 42 lbs compared to the animals in the pasture who probably totaled together are about 750 lbs. Take a look at the well beaten path :)

This is Mallory the dog's path

I just had to put the stinker in there, she hardly would let me take these pictures!

If you would be so kind as to...

2009-02-03T12:46:00.000-05:00

For the few of you who enjoy reading about life in the country, would you like to follow my blog? If you look in the left side bar, you will see "Follow this Blog" - click on it, and you will be an official follower. I would like to see and keep up with those of you who read! Thanks!

MMM-Misleading Milk Marketing

2009-01-31T21:14:00.000-05:00

It is time for an educational post-and while I write this something crazy with the animals is probably happening that is worthy of a later post- and I have decided to go with......organic milk. Yes, again. What prompted this is my browsing through a Publix circular in the newspaper. On their GreenWise page (which highlights their own brand of natural/organic products) there is a big glass of creamy milk with 2 cookies. Below the picture is the advertised price of $4.99/gallon (so much for tough economic times) and the following ad campaign: "Whether poured on cereal or in a glass, try our Publix GreenWise Market All-Natural Milk. With no artificial or added hormones, you and your family will love the smooth, fresh taste of this wholesome, pure milk."

Allow me to disect this for you.

1. "no artificial or added hormones" Here they are referring to bovine growth hormone (BGH) and also recombinant bovine growth hormone(rbST). rbST was a proven effective and safe hormone that was used sparingly by dairymen to increase milk production by almost 10%. This was used primarily for cows who were on the lower end of the production spectrum for short periods of time. Most dairies in Florida and southern parts of Georgia and Alabama were using this hormone very infrequently before Southeast Milk Co-op (www.southeastmilk.org) decided to ban it's use from the dairies participating in the co-op. In other words, if you are living in Florida the milk you have been drinking over the last year is rBST-free regardless of if it is organic or not. BGH's main vice has been that it is reported that the presence of this hormone in milk may cause an increase in our system of Insulin Growth Factor(IGF-1) which is loosely linked to cancer.
WHAT THEY DON'T TELL YOU:
-Dale Bauman, a professor of animal science at Cornell University, emphasizes that if IGF-1 is slightly higher in milk from BGH-treated cows, it represents a tiny fraction of the IGF we all produce each day. Bauman reports that we would have to drink 95 quarts of milk to equal the IGF-1 we make daily in our saliva and other digestive tract secretions. Interesing, huh?
-ST LOUIS, Jan. 25 /PRNewswire-FirstCall/ — Monsanto (Nachrichten/Aktienkurs) announced today that new data from a national study of milk show that marketing claims implying that milk from cows not treated with POSILAC bovine somatotropin (bST) is safer or healthier are misleading. Scientific analysis of retail milk samples gathered from 48 states showed no difference in concentrations of bST, insulin-like growth factor 1 (IGF-1), progesterone or nutrients in conventionally produced milk and conventionally produced milk labeled as coming from cows not supplemented with POSILAC. No antibiotic residues were found in any samples.

INTERESTING, HUH?

Honestly, I am disappointed they did not mention the antibiotics claim to fame. Here is the truth on that in milk: Organic cows can be treated with antibiotics. They are then removed from the herd for 1 year. Yikes. Conventional cows can be treated with antibiotics. Typically, dairymen remove them from the herd while they are being treated, and until a week after they have finished their round of medication. They perform their own tests on that particular cow's milk to ensure there are no traces of the drugs before they return them to the herd. WHY? Because 2x a day, when the refrigerated truck comes to collect their money, er, milk, the milk is tested. If there is a trace of antibiotics in the milk, the entire holding tank is dumped. Talk about seeing your income go down the drain... So, there are no antibiotics in the milk you drink, organic or not.

INTERESTING, HUH?

And I just have to say that the feel good verbiage that is used on organic marketing is sickening. "your family will love the smooth fresh taste?" Give me a break. If my family didn't love the smooth fresh taste of our conventional milk, I don't think I would be buying it! And here is another one off of Annie's Homegrown Shells & White Cheddar Macaroni & Cheese (which was surprisingly in my pantry! ha! it was on clearance at Stuff-Mart, OK?) "...and to support family farms, use organic milk, butter, and yogurt!" I have a newsflash for you folks. The organic milk, butter, and yogurt that is available to most of us in our grocery stores is NOT FROM A FAMILY FARM. It is from a farm in which the farmers work for THE MAN. The man who owns the giant company. The man who is in charge of what the farmer gets paid for what he grows. I know these people who work for this man. They are all in different situations, yes, but a lot of the time, they are farming organically in order to be able to farm period. Nothing to do with convictions or research. Now if you have access to an organic producer down the road from you or a local farmers market or co-op, obviously you ARE supporting the farmer directly and by all means, support them. Think about this folks, think about what you are believing without really considering the facts. If you go to the GreenWise section of Publix and buy items from there believing you are helping out a quaint little Mom and Pop farm, this is very farm from the truth. (who caught that?)

Please also read this fascinating article: http://rbstfacts.org/article/taking-away-modern-technologies-from-dairy-farmers-hurts-the-environment.html
reference used: rbST.org

I have heard over and over again, people tell me "Oh, I don't buy organic food except for the milk... you know, because of the hormones." And I just want everyone to know.... you don't have to spend the extra money anymore!

The City Mice

2009-01-25T20:31:00.000-05:00

Have you ever read that children's book, City Mouse Country Mouse? Well, it is one of my favorite stories because it really emphasizes the fact that some mice, or people, fit in better in the country and some fit in better in the city. When I officially moved to the country almost 5 years ago, I started calling myself 'country mouse' and my sister, who has lived in Miami for 16 years and loves it, 'city mouse'. And just like the story, the two of us visit each other in our respected living quarters, look around and take it all in, and say, "This is nice.... for you! But I'm happiest at home in the city/country" So a few weeks ago, the city mice decided to venture up the state to visit the country mice. Let me paint the picture for you: The city mice arrive in a sleek German-made wagon. It did get a little dirt on the tires when they drove up my driveway. The mice were all wearing very stylish clothes and were armed with the latest technological devices for travel and entertainment. They brought fine wine and choice foods. They brought various other comfort items that the country mice had heard tale of, but had yet to behold with their own eyes. Everyone settled in, warming in front of the fire as it is quite cold in the countryside this time of year. As our weekend progressed, the city nephew spent most of his time outside, roaming the land, hunting with country uncle, skeet shooting with country uncle, feeding livestock, enjoying the fresh air during the day, and the beautiful stars at night. At one point he asked his mother if they could buy some land and build a house here! City niece also spent hours outside romping in the dirt and woods, and carefully attending the goings on in the pasture. City sister enjoyed relaxing by the fire, chatting with country sister, taking a leisurely ride into town (we took the American made oversized SUV this time),eating breads made from freshly milled flour, and the occasional brisk walk through the fields. The real excitement came when city nephew and country daughter were with country husband when he shot a deer! (This is the second time city nephew has been with country husband when a deer was shot-this is the highlight of both trips for him) City sister was a little bothered by the thought of the shooting.... but she was able to get through it. The last night of the visit, after all the many many hours of outdoor adventures and a real taste of country living, the city mice were tired. City nephew and city sister said to country sister, "Can we please watch TV? We haven't watched TV in days! We are on a media withdrawl!" We all giggled a little and I said, "Sure. You are welcome to scroll through the channels, but remember we only have the major networks." City nephew said, "What is a network?" He looked very disappointed when I explained what it was and that there were only 4 of them. But we turned on the boob tube anyway and gave it a shot.

All in all, the city mice always enjoy their time here. Honestly, they handle farm life pretty well considering where they live and what they are used to. I am very proud of them and proud they were able to endure the country mice way of life. I also have a feeling they were glad to see the bright lights again...

City nephew and country daughter with their deer

These boots were made for farmin'

2009-01-13T08:47:00.000-05:00

Yes, all 8 pairs of these boots were found on my front porch. No, not lined up. But after I gathered them all together, I laughed and decided that people ought to see just how many pairs of boots it takes to run a farm.
(Just in case you are wondering, size 13)

Where the credit is due

2009-01-07T14:53:00.000-05:00

Over and over again, I am struck my what a great childhood my kids are having. And no, I'm not talking about my perfect parenting, their material possessions,or their renaissance experiences. I am talking about the wide open spaces. I am talking about no fences. I am talking about no fear. I am talking about the feeling of fresh air, a vision of a sky full of stars, the smell of livestock, the taste of food that was grown with your own hands. I am talking about the farm. Right now, the young-uns are outside exploring. Each day, when they go outside, they wander around the property making up games, pretending, finding animal paw prints in the dirt, blazing trails, feeding animals, covering themselves in dirt all the while. This was not the childhood I had, but it was the childhood of my husband and all his family before him. Nothing about this strikes him as wonderful or strange. But to me, I take it all in and have to wonder, what type of people will this make them? I know for a fact they will never be bored. They don't depend media to entertain them. I also know for a fact they will be innovative and self-sufficient. They have learned to figure out how to do things and how to make things happen. This of course is the obvious reason for the progress of civilization- we are all where we are because of the survival and perseverance of the people before us. And while we are all capable of contributing to society, I see people with the knowledge of basic survival skills and basic problem solving skills and self-sufficiency as being the people who make the biggest changes for good. I wish I could take the credit for these qualities in my kids. But the credit goes to the great outdoors. The credit goes to the hours and hours that they have spent and will spent simply figuring out life outside the four walls of this house.

I work in nursing homes located in rural areas. The majority of people that I work with grew up in this area on family farms. When they hear that I am the wife of a farmer, and that my children are growing up on a farm, they tell me, "Honey, it's a hard life. But it's a good life. I'm a better person for growing up on a farm." This generation of people is also the generation who were finally able to leave the farm. There were education opportunities available to them which allowed them to move to the city, take jobs working for the man and raise families in neighborhoods. At the time I'm sure it sounded like the dream life. Now, families like mine are in the minority and I hear all the time from city folk, "You are so lucky to live on a farm!" And I can't agree with them more.

In a time in our world where parents and children are forced to alienate themselves from others and be on hyper alert for danger outside of the home, I am ever thankful. My kids are running free, no cars or strangers in sight. Just wide open spaces and plenty of exploring to do.

Thank you farm. Thank you God.

Dull Moments Part 3

2009-01-03T20:15:00.000-05:00

(If you haven't read my Dull Moments Part 1 and 2, please do! Go back to March 08)

Well, it was a quiet Saturday morning filled with laundry and more cleaning. And also potty training. Hubby was away in the woods in a tree stand somewhere hunting. I should have known that since it has been so long since my last test of true farm- wifery, and since hubby was gone and unable to be reached by phone, that a series of unfortunate events was inevitably going to take place very soon. And so at 9:30 am, the fun began. Daughter and I were busy in the laundry room when I heard son laughing hysterically near the back door. I ignored it-all good Mom's know to ignore laughing since it means that everyone is happy. But the longer it went on, the more I began to wonder what was causing it. Son exclaims, "Scrappy's trying to get in the house!" Scrappy is a 1 year old male goat who lives inside a 5 acre barbwire fenced pasture with his 2 other goat buddies (Sweet Grass and Peanut) and a 18 month old Jersey calf, Sweetums. You can imagine my shock and horror at the sight of all 3 of our goats looking in our back door and all of our windows at that level. They are frolicking, they are eating potted plants, they are pooping on my front porch, they are being the 3 billy goats gruff. My reaction is the typical girl-who-didn't-grow-up-on-a-farm reaction. I started screaming. OH NO! OH MY GOSH! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! OH NO! GO GET SHOES ON! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! OH MY GOSH! Daughter was immediately rubber booted up and out the front door-she was on a mission. Son had to get pants and diaper put back on (did I mention I was potty training?) and then shoes and then I had to put my shoes on. All the while I am grasping at straws in my head of what I am going to do. You must understand something here- these goats are very strong, have very long pointy horns, and are, well, stubborn. They have a new freedom and I highly doubted at this point that they would simply march back into the pasture when I gently suggested it to them. So I head out the door, 3 year old son in tow, with no plan what so ever. 5 year old daughter is already running toward the shed where the food is kept- genius. Wish I would have thought of that. I push one goat off the porch and cover the sand box-they were eating the sand out of it. Yes it is true what they say, goats will eat anything. I see my bigonia, it is clipping from my Grandfather and has grown wonderfully. Those blasted goats are drooling looking at it. I start screaming again. GET OFF HERE! NO! GO AWAY! GET! NO! GO BACK! It's no use. They love it out here. Daughter is trying to get the food placed strategically while I attempt to lure them toward her. 2 out of the 3 are interested, so I am hopeful. When we get down to the gate of the pasture, the 600 pound calf is attempting the same stunt that the goats pulled- she has found the place the goats got out. The portion of the fence that doesn't have barb wire has been pushed to the ground, while the barb wire strand is still pulled tightly across. The goats simply hopped over with out a problem. So as I see Sweetums contemplating her next move, I do a quick assessment of the situation. 2 young kids, 3 stubborn goats on the loose, 1 panicking farm wife... the addition of the calf running wild would be quite possibly much, much more than I could handle. The hawk and the snake incidents paled in comparison to what I was imagining would happen if Sweetums went for it. Thank you Lord, thank you precious Lord that she got a whiff of the corn that daughter was throwing into the pasture. She walked away. Whew. Now back to the scene before me: daughter was getting no where with these 3 rotten things. Son was really getting antsy to get in on the action, but I was just so nervous that the goats would really get annoyed by the kids corraling them that it would make it worse. So, I started screaming again. GET IN HERE! JUMP OVER! PEANUT! SCRAPPY! ARGH! WHERE IS DADDY? ARGH! I couldn't do anything further. I took 3 year old inside, daughter requested to stay out with them to keep them from running off, and I agreed. Honestly, she is the best person for this job. When inside, I text husband: SERIOUS PROBLEM. GOATS ARE OUT. FENCE IS DOWN. COME HOME FAST. Then son and I sit at the window and watch what daughter is doing. This situation was beyond me and I simply could not get the goats back in. This is what we saw from the window:

What can I say, I raised a genius for a child. She roped one goat and then attempted to tie up another one. Now, don't think I don't realize the potential of 2 goats tied to the same rope. But it was keeping them close to the pasture, and occupied. In the meantime, I had realized that my throat was sore from all the screaming. I also got a text from hubby: On my way home. Praise the Lord! When hubby arrived, in less than 5 minutes the billy goats were back in the fence and they were so exhausted from their morning that they went straight to nap time. Hubby repaired the fence in no time, and once again the farm wife was back to work inside-where I belong.

So for those of you who still believe that my life out here in the peaceful country is mundane and dull.... I'll give you a call next time I see this at my back door:

Christmas in the country

2008-12-28T22:08:00.000-05:00

So we don't hit all the Bloomingdale's last minute sales .... but we really don't miss it. On the farm, we keep Christmas simple. And everyone is just as happy on Christmas morning.

Bumpkin sighting in Whole Foods

2008-12-27T22:29:00.000-05:00

Late Saturday evening in downtown Orlando, the folks who frequent the Whole Foods on Sand Lake Blvd were in for a the shock of a lifetime. There was a bumpkin sighting. At approximately 8pm, a young female country bumpkin who had never seen the inside of such a place as a purely organic grocery store, was spotted making her way down the soy cereal aisle. She was first noticed by her appearance- dirt on her vehicle (there are no dirty vehicles in Orlando), a Vera Bradley purse (also a rarity in large cities), and a look of absolute disgust on her face as she saw the prices that people inside the store were paying for "feel-good" crap, er, food. She spent quite a bit of time trying to locate the milk. This was probably because she was looking for a large cooler filled with plastic gallon jugs of milk that came from dairies within 70 miles. When in actuality, she should have been looking for a very small black cooler filled with very small cardboard containers of over priced orgainc milk that had traveled at least 200 miles to get to the store. It was at this cooler that she really began to draw a crowd of onlookers. The shoppers who are usuals at Whole Foods(mostly upper middle class, highly educated, well dressed biased folk who have had NO contact with agriculture in their entire life but have recently taken an extreme interest in blotting out conventional farmers) had never seen a bumpkin before. Some of them had heard tale of such creatures, but most people never considered that such a type of person existed outside the city limits of Orlando. So a small crowd of people began to follow the bumpkin around the store and gawk in amazement as she made her way down the chip aisle. "Who the heck pays $3.99 for a 9oz bag of tortilla chips?", the bumpkin exclaimed. "Um, we do!", replied the crowd. The bumpkin started laughing. The crowd looked at each other puzzled. When the young bumpkin made her way to the check out line, the crowd realized that no one on earth would believe them if they told them this story... country bumpkins are so rare, so unique, so mind blowing.... they scrambled for their iphones so they could take a picture of her and send it out to the masses, but she ran so fast from the store,jumped into a gas guzzling Suburban with a FL Ag tag "FarmGal" and peeled out of the parking lot before they could document it for prosterity. So if you are willing to believe this tale, pass this on to your friends. Is it a myth? Could it be true? ARE BUMPKINS REAL???
(PS- just in case you are confused, I went into a whole foods store for the first time and just had to laugh at myself for being in there)

Chicken Run

2008-10-23T22:36:00.000-04:00

I’ve decided that “zoning out” is truly an ability that is not natural to human beings. We strive constantly to pay attention, to be “present”, and to multi-task. I am guilty of always trying to do something in conjunction with something else. But I digress… have you ever seen a chicken run? Like really run? Across a 3 acre wide open field with nothing in her way, no obstacles to hurdle, no worries to slow her down? This is truly a fascinating sight. I watch my 5 chickens as much as I can out of my large windows that over look our pasture. The chickens are so entertaining. Especially since I’m a really good chicken owner and let them roam a 3 acre pasture as free as a bird…. I honestly believe they are happier doing that than when they lived in their coup all day. But come on, why do I believe that? Because I’m human, and I am purely putting my emotions on a chicken. I’d be happier roaming than couped up. But I also don’t eat seeds out of cow poop, get hunted by birds of prey, or break off albumin and turn it into an egg now do I? So I have a little problem with people who believe “animals are happier when…” Come on, people! They’re not human! But I digress…They stay gone most of the day, in the woods or somewhere looking for bugs. But when they come out, usually around 5 pm, they are so far from the coup and their feed that they all of a sudden feel the urge to run home. And seeing them run makes me laugh out loud. Chickens are an oddly shaped bird, being so bottom heavy. And when there are only 2 very short legs to run upon, the running is more like really fast waddling. They lurch their heads forward and take off. They run the whole way, like 100 yards! What’s really funny is when 2 run together, side by side, like 2 people finishing a marathon trying to inch ahead of the other. They are running fast across an open field and then all of a sudden they get to the fence and halt. Then very slowly, then begin to peck the ground again. They aren’t out of breath or noticeably tired, or wondering if their stocks are worth anything… they’re just pecking the ground and clucking. Oh and leaving me a beautiful brown egg everyday. They have no idea how much I appreciate that.
I really wish I could post a video of the ladies doing their afternoon sprints. You would laugh out loud. {for all you city folk, yes there still exists a peculiar and miserable thing called dial-up which prevents me from uploading videos within a reasonable amount of time- like a day}

Words

2008-09-12T19:34:00.000-04:00

>while browsing a particularly crunchy (meaning mainly shopped in by people who put the "dirt worshipping tree hugger" bumper sticker on their car) grocery store (that will remain nameless since they do have some redeeming qualities like very delicious pimento cheese), I was marveling at how pretty the organic produce was. The farmer (who took the wife) always likes to make the comment that most Americans wouldn't buy organic produce because it "isn't pretty enough." Well, this stuff was pretty. And small. And very neatly arranged. Anyway, as I got closer to the display, there were signs in front of each section. The first sign read: CONVENTIONAL HONEYDEWS. Hmmmm.... The next sign read: CONVENTIONAL CANTELOPES. More hmmmm.... And yet again, CONVENTIONAL ORANGES. I giggled. The little person arranging them looked at me and said, "Can I help you, mam?" Oh definetly not. But thanks! The farmer and I just walked off still giggling. So when I got home, I looked up the word 'conventional' in the dictionary. Of course I knew what they meant on the signs, and in fact we use that term to refer to our methods of agriculture as well. But words imply things, and can often be a slippery slope.... so here is the definition I found:
adj. depending on or conforming to formal or accepted standards or rules rather than nature; not natural, original, or spontaneous
Now I'm really laughing! I just don't know what words are safe anymore. I mean, yes, of course we adhere to "accepted standards and rules" - but so do certified organic growers. And they would absoluetly die if you called them conventional. And we fight constantly to educate the public that 'natural' just isn't the word to use when referring to things grown in the 21st century, organic or not. Nothing is in it's 'natural' state anymore. And that word is SO subjective and loaded... (don't get me started on the GMO debate!) And I never considered us to be 'not original'... Seriously? As farmers, we make up less than 1% of America's population, and other than the "oldest profession on earth", I'm pretty sure farming is the second oldest and therefore QUITE original.

I know what you are thinking- I'm reading too much into it, right? But reading too much into it is exactly the problem these days... Words mean whatever people want them to mean. They mean everything and nothing at all. So go ahead, call my peanuts CONVENTIONAL. But please don't call me unnatural!

Can you solve this riddle?

2008-08-13T13:51:00.000-04:00

Where would you be if you were....
Naked, starving, and can't find ethenol ??

Stephen's "View From Here"

2008-08-12T07:35:00.000-04:00

This is an article that Stephen was asked to write for our Florida Farm Bureau monthly magazine. I couldn't have said it better myself....

“…It was farmers that went over the mountains, cleared the land, and settled it, and farmed it, and hung on to their farms. …it was farmers who took all that country and made it America, son. Don’t you ever forget that.” (Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farmer Boy, 1933)

That is why I am proud to be a farmer. Without a doubt our country’s success is directly tied to the farmers who have worked hard to succeed. We could not have done it alone; fortunately, we have had the support of our government from our nation’s inception. Our forefathers believed that a nation that could feed itself could not fail and maintaining that ability should rank among its highest priorities. George Washington said, “I know of no pursuit in which more real and important services can be rendered to any country than by improving its agriculture, its breed of useful animals, and other branches of a husbandman's cares.”

This past year I traveled with my church to southern Mexico, the center of origin for corn, but most fields there would barely yield 10 bushels/acre. That is 6% of America’s average corn yield. The farmers that were successful in Mexico learned to farm in America and took their knowledge back to Mexico. I saw the effects of a government with little priority toward developing its agriculture and therefore bringing its citizens beyond subsistence agriculture.

It requires a constant effort to educate our neighbors and political leaders of the challenges we face and how important it is to protect agriculture’s future, not simply for our own sake as farmers, but for our nation’s sake. American agriculture still needs the support of the federal, state, and local government. We need our land-grant institutions. We need the support of our neighbors. We face skyrocketing production costs, out of reach land prices, and volatile markets unlike any have ever seen. We have to ensure that our story is told and our importance is not forgotten. Through the Young Farmer and Rancher Leadership program I have been prepared to meet this challenge not just as a farmer, but an agricultural promoter and a citizen of this greatest of nations. I see that I cannot sit on the sidelines and expect someone else to speak for me; I must step out and be a leader. I have taken my first step by running as a candidate for my local Board of County Commissioners in this year’s election.

I am proud to be part of the 1.5% of our population that is tasked with feeding, clothing, and now recently fueling the remainder of the population. A daunting task, but well worth the effort. The words of Thomas Jefferson propel me forward: “Let the farmer forevermore be honored in his calling; for they who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God.”

Stephen Fulford, 3^rd generation farmer

Jefferson County

How does your garden grow?

2008-07-18T07:22:00.000-04:00

We've got everything coming in at once.... cucumbers, zipper peas, corn, squash, watermelon, cantelope, okra.... Esther is quite pleased with her self. I was telling her, as we were shellin' peas, "Esther you did such a great job growing these peas!" And her response was, "Don't thank me, thank Daddy!" I thought that was pretty cute.

I hate to say I told you so...

2008-07-18T07:18:00.000-04:00

Well, the research is finally rolling in and we are pleased with what is being told. However, I know that this info will not be out in the TV arena, so people will continue down the path of believing their own truth.... anyway, it is interesting.

Reporting on the GM Debate
14.jul.08
The University of Melbourne Voice Vol. 3, No. 5
Nerissa Hannink
http://uninews.unimelb.edu.au/articleid_5277.html
Ultimately, the most critical issue for sustainable farming is whether we can grow enough food to sustain the human population
“I see my role as applying a scientific scalpel to vexatious issues,” says Dr Elizabeth Finkel. As a former biochemist and now award-winning journalist, Dr Finkel is well placed to guide the public through the vast amount of information on the contentious topic of GM food.
For many people journalists are their primary source for the major issues, so as a proxy for the concerned public, she has been invited to reveal the process behind her work at a Faculty of Land and Food Resources Dean’s lecture on the 6 August.
Dr Finkel’s piece Organic foods exposed – published in the popular science magazine COSMOS – won the 2007 Bell Awards’ categories for Best feature writer and Best analytical writer.
To address this issue, Dr Finkel posed two questions:
What is the healthiest way to produce our food – for us and for the environment? And what is the most sustainable way to produce our food – organics or technological solutions like GM?
“My conclusion, is that the mass migration to organic food has not been on the back of scientific evidence, but based on the ideology that ‘natural is best’,” says Dr Finkel.
Her search through the literature revealed that data on organic food is predominantly from non-refereed or very low-ranking journals, and is often used in distorted ways.
“I found it important to steer away from highly polarised people from both sides of the debate. My technique is to peel away the layers of the onion by being guided by the science. To write this article, it took three months of reading articles in high-ranking peer-reviewed journals and interviewing the academics themselves.
“One of the most useful journal articles I came across was a comprehensive review of some 400 scientific papers on the health impacts of organic foods, published by Faidon Magkos and colleagues in 2006 in the journal Critical Reviews in Food Science and Nutrition, which concluded there was no evidence that eating organic food was healthier.
“The bottom line is that there is tremendous variation in the nutritional make-up of fruit and vegetables regardless of whether they were grown by organic or conventional means.”
In her article Dr Finkel notes that it is so difficult to support the claim that organic food is healthier that the

Britain

’s Advertising Standards Authority has directed the British Soils Association – an organic foods advocacy group – to desist from making it.
“The next step in my search was to ask: If the end-product isn’t healthier for us, is the actual process of growing food organically better for us and for the environment? Organic farmers are bound to an ideology that demands they use only natural techniques. In some cases, such purism gets in the way of practices that are better for the environment and more sustainable for farmers.”
She uses the example of organic farmers using litres of BT spray (BT is a ‘natural’ pesticide made by the bacterium Bacillus thuringiensis), yet they often demonise the genetically modified (GM) cotton crops that carry an inbuilt supply of BT, and which therefore require less spraying, sparing farmers – and the environment – from the risks of pesticide overuse.
Dr Finkel agrees that there are historical reasons for concern with conventional farming, including the widespread use of the pesticide DDT and fertiliser run-off which led to algal blooms and soil erosion.
“But these days, modern farming techniques have evolved after decades of pressure from the environmental movement and decades of work by a generation of scientists inspired by environmental awareness. In fact, conventional farming is starting to look a lot like organic farming.”
Ultimately, the most critical issue for sustainable farming is whether we can grow enough food to sustain the human population.
“I sought the views of many agricultural scientists. According to Norman Ernest Borlaug, the American plant geneticist who won a Nobel Peace Prize: ‘This shouldn’t even be a debate. Even if you could use all the organic material you have – the animal manures, the human waste, and the plant residues – and get them back on the soil, you couldn’t feed more than four billion people’”.
So when asked how to move this issue forward, Dr Finkel says, “I have had an amazing response to this article; people earnestly want answers to the question of sustainable farming.
“We need a combination of scientists and regulators involved in future discussions to articulate the benefits of GM crops and show how we deal with the risks.
“The precautionary principle is a good one, but that doesn’t mean paralysis

More hard times

2008-06-23T13:29:00.000-04:00

As I looked out on our little piece of heaven this morning, saw my animals playfully enjoying the day and seeing our peanut field enjoying yesterday's inch of rain.... I was thankful. Our family has been enjoying this land for almost 70 years and we are thankful to have the privilege of being stewards of it.

But not too many states away, there are families looking out over their land and seeing a completely different view. Over 5 million acres are gone. That number may not mean that much to the average American. Let me put it this way: 2500 family farms. Gone. I guarantee that the world will feel this. Corn, wheat, soybeans, beans.... beef, poultry, pork..... staples that America supplies the world with. We didn't grow corn for years because of the low price... $2 a bushel. Today it is $8. And climbing. We don't mind making money, but never at another farmer's expense!

As I said in a previous post, times are only going to get harder.