​For her tenth birthday, my youngest daughter Kara received a guinea pig. We had originally planned for her to have a hamster or gerbil, but the only small animal up for adoption at the humane society was Nibbles the guinea pig. While Nibbles was his official name, most of the time we referred to him as simply Pig.
     Pig lived in a plastic tote with eight inch tall sides. Inside the tub he had his food bowl, water bottle and a wooden house Kara constructed for him. Although his walls were only eight inches tall and he easily could’ve jumped out, Pig never did.
Each time we gave Pig a treat, like some cucumber skin or a strawberry top, we would whistle. Much like Pavlov’s dog, Pig came to expect the treat whenever he heard the whistle. He would jump on top of his little house, chatter his teeth and squeal with anticipation. 
     Kara loved Pig and played with him daily. He loved her to scratch his chin and rub his nose. He also let Kara know he did not like having his back or rump scratched. He would chatter his teeth, jump into his tote and hide in his little house.
One day Kara and Pig were playing on the living room recliner. The were having a great time until Kara got the idea to set Pig on the recliner’s head rest and then flip the lever. I’m not sure what ten-year-old Kara expected would happen, but certainly this development resulted in a turn of events that Pig did not anticipate.  The recliner popped forward, launching Pig into space.  Eyes wide and limbs spread out, he sailed over the recliner until, remarkably, he landed on his feet several yards away. Pig lost no time and immediately ran for his tote.  Without hesitation, he scrambled over the side and sought refuge inside his wooden house. He refused to venture out the rest of the day, fearing another flying adventure. Kara got the message and never sprung those kind of shenanigans on him again.
     We have many (non-flying) animals on our farm that you can see on a tour. Please visit our website www.tourmyfarm.com to book a tour. We hope to see you soon!

​     The school bus was abuzz with anticipation for the day’s field trip. The second graders eagerly peered out the windows as the bus turned into the lane of Cinnamon Ridge Farms. A chorus of “Old John Maxwell had a farm” concluded as the bus came to a stop in front of the new blue and white barn. There to greet them, Joan Maxwell hopped on the bus to welcome everyone. As she told them about the wagon ride, the kids cheered.
     Giggling and smiling, the kids climbed up onto the wagon and set off for a tour of the fields. On the wagon ride, the class learned about the crops (winter wheat, corn, and soybeans) growing in the fields. When they returned to the blue barn after the ride, all the class gathered around a pen of light brown fuzzy calves. The class learned many new things: calves drink milk, eat corn and oats, have ear tags, and lose their teeth. Some wondered if the tooth fairy comes for the calves.  Time with babies isn’t done: a newly hatched chick was carefully held out for each kid to feel its soft down.
      Their next stop was the dairy barn. As they watch the robotic milkers milking the cows, the class learns milking cows enjoy a pampered lifestyle.  Even their food is specially designed: a delicious ration of many different ingredients mixed together, called a total mix ration or TMR.  As buckets are passed around, the kids run their fingers through the individual ingredients: smooth cottonseeds, powdery soybean meal, hay, brightly colored grain, and hearty silage.  Joan teaches the kids that cows at Cinnamon Ridge are Jerseys, one of the five dairy breeds.  After explaining that most Jerseys have brown hair, she asked what color milk they think Jerseys give. A few were perplexed, but most knew that white milk comes from brown cows. 
      After more learning and watching the cows, the group enjoyed a Whitey’s ice cream treat. While everyone enjoys their ice cream, Joan tells them a few jokes:

• Why do cows wear bells? (Because their horns don’t work!)
• What do you call a cow that has just given birth? (De-calf-inated)
• What do you call a sleeping bull? (A bulldozer)

    Once all the kids were back on the bus, Joan bid them farewell and asked one final question: “Where does milk come from?” “Cows!” shouted the class. Joan smiled and said, “Another successful tour.”
Cinnamon Ridge offers customized tours to all ages. To book a tour, go to www.tourmyfarm.com.

     It was a dark and stormy night.  Thunder rumbled.  So did the man's stomach.  His headlights cut through the wet darkness of 275th Street.  In the distance, a warm light beckoned.  Hands gripping the wheel, the man's mouth watered as the light drew closer and, finally, wheels turned into the gravel drive.  The windows of the small building illuminated his dash through the rain, jacket held over his head.  Stepping inside the dry, warm haven, the man shook off the rain drops and focused on his goal: farm-raised, juicy sirloin steak.  It was midnight: where else could he buy meat like that on a late night like this?  In the freezer, two packages just the right size.  And, yes, a package of bacon cheddar cheese curds for him, and a bar of fresh soap for the wife.  Perfect.  The rain still pounding on the roof, his pencil calculated the total, and he slipped payment into the slot.  Five minutes from start to finish at the Cinnamon Ridge Self-Serve Farm Store on 275th Street, just outside of Donahue, and the man was back in his car driving toward home and his grill, creamy cheese curds staving off the hunger pangs.
“Where’s the beef?” I was asked this question for years by people interested in purchasing meat directly from our dairy farm where we milk 220 Jersey cows with 4 Lely robots and make cheese from their milk. Most of these people wanted to buy a few specific cuts of meat, not a whole or half beef, as is common when buying from the farmer. After seeing a self-serve, honor system flower stand in Chile, I thought I’d try to use that system to market farm-fresh products. While it started with frozen beef and pork, I’ve since added fresh eggs, our award-winning cheese, baked goods, milk soap and cutting boards.  In addition to aged cheddar and Gouda, we also offer fresh cheese curds, original flavor and also seasonal varieties such as bacon, ranch, or garlic and herb.  Not only do people love the flavor of our award-winning beef, but they also appreciate that it’s raised on our farm without additional growth hormones and antibiotics are only used when necessary to treat a sick animal.
The honor system has worked very well for at our store. People come in, select their products, use the provided scratch paper and calculators to figure the price, and put the money in the slot. The store is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It’s a real testament to the amazing community we live in.  The honor system works because people in our region can be trusted.
Our products are also offered at the Freight House Farmers Market in Davenport, The Depot restaurant in Donahue, Barley and Rye Bistro in Moline and several Quad-City Hy-Vee locations. If you’re interested in learning more about our farm, please visit our website www.tourmyfarm.com. We offer tours of our farm year round.

​As the earth wakes up in April, farmers have a narrow window of time to plant seeds in their fields.  For my father as a young man in the 1920’s, he would greet the spring breezes by tackling the fields with literal horse power.  In the dark, pre-dawn hours, George would hitch geldings Donny and Sal to the plow, drive them to the field, and proceed to till the field several times over.  Though time-consuming, this extra care would level the field to create a smooth seed bed, easier to plant and harder for weeds to later take over the crop.  When the field was finally ready, he would hitch Donny and Sal to a single row planter.  This planter used a check wire to place the seeds the correct distance apart.  A big day would be five acres planted.
 
In the 1940s my father purchased a tractor and two row planter, with which he could do more than double acres in a day than he did with Donny and Sal. By the 1970s, we were using a bigger tractor and 12 row planter which could easily do 100 acres in a day. 
 
This spring I will jump into the fields just as early as Dad did.  Yet in the 4 AM chilly darkness, I will hitch the power of not just two, but 260 horses to a shiny, green 32-row planter.  With this planter I can plant 250 acres a day.  Both Dad’s plow and his single-row planter with a check wire have long been retired.  Thanks to advancements which make no-till or very little tilling feasible, I can skip Dad’s painstaking steps of leveling the field and preparing the soil. Not only does this save precious time, but it also allows me to conserve the soil and reduce fuel usage. Plus, no-till increases the quality of water runoff and leaves a smaller carbon footprint.  The planter I will hitch to my tractor includes technology my dad could probably never have dreamt of!  It monitors seed placement, seed depth, seed population, and more.  It can even vary the population mid-field according to productivity of the soil!  Although I am needed to oversee everything in the cab, once in the field the tractor navigates itself through the field using GPS precision to utilize every possible inch and maximize yields. All this technology helps farmers like me reduce cost and boost productivity, so food prices remain low to you, the US consumer. With all this advancement, I wonder what the next 50 years will bring.
 
When you buy directly from us, you are receiving the benefit of this and other amazing technology that allows us to care for our land and livestock responsibly.  We pass both savings AND quality on to you at our Country Cupboard Store, located right on our farm near Donahue.  We hope you enjoy our great selection of our farm-raised beef, pork, cheese, and eggs!

     ​One of the many blessings my five siblings and I experienced growing up on our farm was our horse, Major. We spent days with Major and he was a great source of entertainment for all of us. Like most animals, Major had a personality all his own. He knew how to get his way without ever hurting us.
Major was a racehorse before he came to the Maxwell farm. Though he had been burned in a trailer fire and was unable to race, his bloodlines and persistent attitude made him the challenge champion of the neighborhood. Many neighbors and friends came over to see if their horse could best Major, but none ever prevailed. Through all the years, Major never lost a race.
     Major was often tethered in our apple orchard. When Major grew tired of his location, he would yank the stake out of the ground and run with his head to the side so he wouldn’t trip himself on the chain. When he was thirsty, rather than drink out of his water tub, he would trot to the hydrant, use his head to turn it on and then proceed to get an icy cold drink. As clever as he was, however, Major never would turn off the hydrant when he was done! Many times the driveway would be drenched in water because Major left the hydrant on. The ducks, of course, loved the swampy driveway and always took the opportunity to frolic in the mess Major had made.
     When Major tired of having someone on his back, he would find a tree with a low branch and squeeze himself under it, knocking the rider to the ground. He would then proceed to turn around and look at the rider, as if to say, “What are you doing down there?” When the rider tried to remount, Major would spin in a circle or take a few quick steps, making it impossible to get on. When Major was tired of being ridden, that was it for the day. No amount of coercion or persistence would change his mind.
     Sometimes we would ride Major to our aunt and uncle’s house a quarter mile up the road. Major would be trotting along, sometimes with two or three of us on his back, then stop suddenly with the riders all tumbling forward over his neck to the ground. If we stayed longer than Major wished, he would untie himself and head for home, leaving us to walk back.
     Major was one of the many benefits my siblings and I enjoyed from growing up on a farm. Another benefit was eating from the fruits of our labor, dining on farm fresh food every day. You too can partake in our farm’s harvests by visiting our Country Cupboard Store and choosing from our many offerings, including beef, cheese, pork, eggs, and baked goods. We hope to see you soon!

This article appeared in the February Issue of 50+ Lifestyle Magazine    
    I grew up on a farm in the 1970s where we had beef and dairy cattle, hogs, sheep, horses, dogs, cats, ducks, and chickens. In the chicken house, there was a large flock of hens and a couple of roosters. One of the banty roosters we named Rooster Cogburn, after the character played by John Wayne in the movie True Grit. Like Wayne’s character, the gritty rooster had spunk and was a non-conforming spit fire. Rooster was also the barn yard bully. He would attack anyone and everyone daily. Rooster typically would go from pen to pen, harassing every animal on the farm. It was not unusual to see Rooster riding on the back of a cow, perched on a cow stall, dive bombing a cat, or scratching in a pig feeder to find the best kernel of corn.
     While I was milking the cows, one of my favorite things to do was harass Rooster by squirting him in the face with milk right from the cow. He would look around very indignantly, trying the find the source of the annoyance. Of all the animals on the farm, Rooster probably harassed the ducks the most. There was a mud puddle, about the size of an automobile, in the middle of the barn yard. The ducks would spend most of their days in and out of that mud puddle. Our flock of ducks consisted of 3-5 hens and one drake, whom we called Duke. In the spring we would have 10-20 ducklings in our flock as well. Duke was the man in charge of his ladies. On this particular day, Rooster was being extra obnoxious, especially to the ducklings. Finally, Duke had enough. He grabbed Rooster by the nap of the neck and dragged him in the mud puddle and proceeded to stomp him into the mud until Rooster’s entire body was buried. As if he’d said “uncle,” Rooster was finally let go by Duke. Rooster got out of the water, shook himself off and ran back to the chicken house. From that day forward, the ducks were off limits to Rooster. Finally Rooster had met his match.
     Cinnamon Ridge offers many great items fresh off our farm at our Country Cupboard Store, including farm fresh eggs. Our website is www.tourmyfarm.com

     The article was our January submission to 50+ Lifestyles magazine. I hope you enjoy.
     The house was painted. The trees were trimmed. The lawn was immaculate. My mother’s hard work over the last year to prepare our farm for my sister’s wedding reception had paid off. The result of her saving flower seeds and planting bulbs was simply beautiful. Our farm had never looked this good—even the plant colors were coordinated with each other. On my sister’s wedding day, the flowers were a symphony in bloom. My mother could look around after the guests had left and breathe a deep sigh of satisfaction.
     The day after the wedding, my parents traveled six hours to the groom’s reception in Northwest Iowa, leaving my older brother and me behind to care for the farm in all its radiance for several days.
“The pigs are out!” This wake-up call from my brother the next morning lurched me out of bed in a hurry. “Quickly close the gate to the front road so we can contain them in the farmyard.” I rushed out, half dressed, and shut the gate in the nick of time. OK, at least they were contained: 400 hogs now having the run of the place. But two hours later, we still had had no success in corralling them back into their pen.  Frustrated and caked with sweat and grime, my brother and I stopped to regroup and catch our breath.  Then my brother had a marvelous idea: “Let’s lock them out! They will beg us to get back in because they will be so thirsty!!” Being the younger brother with shorter legs and likely to get some of the most unpleasant tasks, I thought this was a fool-proof plan. Just the thought of the pigs waiting at the gate, desperate to be let back in where they belong, made my tired self gleeful with delight.
     We woke up the next morning to the sound of thunder, followed by the whoosh of heavy rain. It took us a little while to connect the dots; having the pigs beg us to get in now didn’t seem very plausible. Instead of the pigs being thirsty, they were hungry, and they soon discovered the best source of food available was my mother's hard-earned, carefully planted roots and bulbs in the garden. In no time at all, the hogs turned the yard and flower garden upside down as if we had gone in with a plow. To add insult to injury, they created a big wallow right in the center of the flower garden. Of course, we knew we were in big trouble. But what could we do? Well, we set out after milking to put them into their pen. But now, the pigs were enjoying their new-found freedom (and scrumptious eats) and were even more difficult to put away. Finally by nightfall, six hours later, we saw the last of the 400 hogs waddle back into their pen. But, of course, the clouds were still darkening...  Neither one of us got a lot of sleep that night because mom and dad were scheduled to arrive the next day.
     When our parents drove up, immediately the farm became like a crime scene, complete with interrogating and arresting the criminals. Between our father really putting the verbal squeeze on and my mother crying, we felt like we had dug ourselves into a hole we would never see the end of. We spent months doing on farm service projects, including restoring the lawn and flower garden. Still to this day, I look at the carefully planted flowers on my own farm, and I remember the day the pigs got out.
     Thanks to everyone who stops by the Country Cupboard Store on our farm in rural Donahue.  When the flowers planted around the store bloom this spring, perhaps they will remind you of this story and bring a smile to your face. We sell many items off our farm, including pork.

This is a story written by my husband, John. It was submitted to our local 50+ Lifestyle's magazine

     It was a cool, clear, and crisp Sunday morning. Everything was going well at the Cinnamon Ridge Dairy barn. Cows were milked and turned out. Quick Rick, a Sunday employee of Cinnamon Ridge, was on cloud nine after his great performance last night on the local gridiron. With every breath, Rick gave the blow-by-blow of him shooting through the gap and rushing for more than 140 yards. Meanwhile, our four year old cow, Chickadee, grazed with her herdmates, waiting to go back into her stall in the barn.
     Chickadee’s reputation as an escape artist was well known.  Getting herself loose at the Mississippi Valley Fair had been topped only by her letting other cows loose. All the farm gates had to be double latched and doors securely locked, or Chickadee would soon be wandering the farm somewhere, seeing what other kind of trouble she could get herself into. Good thing her sassiness was counterbalanced by her tame and friendly disposition.
After putting down the last shovel full of feed in front of the stalls, Quick Rick looked up and announced, “I can get the cows in myself.”
     I replied, “Ok, if you need me, I’ll be out back by the silos.” 
    As Rick let in the cows, the first few girls came into the barn very calmly and went right to their stalls. But then, just as Quick Rick had his back turned, Chickadee sauntered in, head high and looking for trouble. Rick turned around.  At the exact same moment, Rick and Chickadee spied the open door on the far side of the barn that led into silo area and ultimately into paradise: a large hayfield. In that moment, they both knew what was going to happen.  Off like sprinters from the starting gates, the two of them raced to the open door. Chickadee nimbly wheeled her four hooves around the corner and narrowly slid through the doorway, leaving Quick Rick in her dust.  Still running, the two—one after the other—charged full throttle by the silos and into the hayfield. Just as Rick was about to grab Chickadee’s collar, she put on a burst of speed to keep him in her shadow. The race continued as Chickadee led Rick in a huge circle and back towards the silos. Knowing the territory expertly, she navigated to the silos. Round and round they went, each time Rick getting close, but not close enough. After several laps, Quick Rick had had enough.  He stopped and turned toward the barn to finish putting the other cows in. To his utter surprise, Chickadee (laughing, I’m sure) followed him into the barn and went right into her stall.  Without a moment of hesitation, she started eating her feed and gave Rick the look: “Gotcha.” Touchdown Chickadee. 
     Come back and score another touchdown at our store, enjoying the freedom of farm fresh food.  I want to thank everyone that visited our farm store this last month.

As many of you know, we give tours on our farm. We offer different types of tours. The first tours that we offered were tours to school children from the local school district. Then came tours from foreign countries. Now we see tours from the local communities and even tour companies bring tours to our farm.

In the three years that I have been a part of the operation, I have seen the questions that are asked change. Sometimes I feel myself get on the defensive, but then I take a cleansing breath and compose myself and explain how a farm works. One of the most common questions asked on our farm is, "Do the cows ever go outside?" My answer is, "While the cow is lactating (milking) she stays in the barn." I have seen quizzical looks to outright disgust with that answer. However, once I explain to our visitors why it is better for the cow to be inside versus outside they understand. For those of you wondering why we keep our cows inside, here is my explanation. #1, there are very few idyllic days to be outside... Too hot, too cold, too muddy... #2 There are very few flies in our barn. Because we clean the barn daily, there is no place for fly larvae to hatch. There are not biting flies in the barn. #3 We can keep the cows clean which leads to less mastitis, a very painful infection, in our cows because they sleep on clean beds.#4 We can be assured that our cows are getting the proper nutrition. When a cow is out on pasture, they may eat too much of one thing and not enough of another thing. #5 We want our cows to be comfortable. They lay on sand beds in a barn with almost 40 fans.

Another question that has changed over the years is, "are you organic?" I answer, "no" and that would be the end of it. Now it is, "Why aren't you?" This one is actually an easier one... "There is no market for organic milk in this area." By going organic, it would increase our expenses and there would be no premium for the milk that we raise." People are surprised by this answer. Since our visitors read so much about how organic is perceived to be better (nutritiously and environmental) they just assume everyone wants it. Sometimes, I feel like I teach economics 101, supply and demand.

As farmers, most of us just know stuff. Some examples are, in order for a cow to produce milk the cow must be a.) female, b) Must have a calf. It cannot be assumed that everyone knows this. One statistic says that people are 3 generations removed from the farm. Another example of stuff we just know is: many conventional farmers use manure to fertilize their fields. This is another misconception perpetrated by information on the internet that only organic farmers use manure. As a farm that gives many tours a week, we must continually assume that our guests do not know much about farming.

Another question we get is the GMO question. My answer is that we do utilize seeds bred with the the GE breeding technique. After asking why we use GMO seeds. I personalize it with my own concerns. I state, my concern is for water quality. By using seeds bred with herbicide resistance, we are able to practice minimum and no-till practices. When the soil is disturbed and then it rains, soil can erode. If soil is left alone, it has a better chance of not eroding when it rains. Soil that runs into streams takes nutrients with it. We want the nutrients to stay in the field, not runoff into the drainage ditches.  If we did not use this modern technology, we would need to till the soil more often to kill the weeds.

Consumers only hear on the internet how "bad" glyphosate is. I stay away from the chemical and relate the benefits of soil that stays in its place. Every once in awhile, I do get someone that pushes the argument further. Then I go back to economics 101 course. There is no market for non-GMO crops in our area. If we are going to a greater expense, use tilling practices that cause us to loose more of our topsoil, spray more chemicals, then it must be cost effective for us to raise these crops. However, there is no monetary incentive for us to grow specialty crops.  

While I try to explain modern farming practices to our visitors, it is hard to combat the mountains if information and misinformation out on the internet with what we do on our farm. However, if we can education one visitor, one child, or better yet, one family, then I feel that we are making a difference.