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We Are One Snow Away From Disaster

1/15/2019

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     On the farm, weather can be a real challenge, especially snow and cold. Our livestock need to be kept warm, but also need fresh air, as respiratory infections such as pneumonia can occur in stale air environments.  Then, when big snowfalls occur, not only do the driveways need to be plowed, but also many of the yards for the livestock’s recreation need to be cleared. One winter in particular stands out for me as the worst in my lifetime: the winter of 1978-79 packed a huge snowfall and followed with severe cold.
     That winter started early. We already had ten inches of snow on the ground before the blizzard on January 12th.  I was playing high school basketball in a Friday night away game in Burlington.  The weather forecast had predicted only 2-4”, so little thought was given to travel conditions. At least that much had already fallen, however, as we were loading on the bus. The driving wind brought more snow minute by minute.  The swirling snow and wind sure made for poor visibility and slick roads! Our team bus driver really stepped up to the challenge, but even with his best efforts we had a hard time making the trip home. It took almost four hours to make the normally two-hour ride. After our team arrived at Davenport West, I then had an even harder time getting back to our home farm. The back roads I needed to travel were far worse than the main roads the bus had taken. I finally made it to our driveway, only to get stuck in the snow, which had now accumulated to over a foot!
     The next morning I couldn’t even see the car! It was completely covered in snow. In total, that blizzard dumped about 18 inches. The whole family spent the next few days moving snow and getting animal pens cleared. The most challenging was digging out the car in the driveway. My mom packed a hot lunch and thermos of coffee and sent me to flag down the snow plow on our road. The plow driver was appreciative of the warm food and was willing to return the favor. Once he’d finished with the road, he came and cleared our driveway. This way the milk truck could come and empty our now-full tank of milk and deliver it to the processing plant.
     The roads were a long tunnel, it was only one car width wide and the snow wall sides were taller than the car. My dad remarked that if we got another big blizzard, the tunnels would fill, and the whole county could be snowed in. Finally the spring came, seemingly much later than usual, and all that snow melted creating a big muddy mess.
The winter of ’78-79 really taught me how well our community runs when people look out for each other. I feel very fortunate to live in an area where, for decades, county employees have worked tirelessly to keep roads clear in all kinds of weather.
Having such a great county road crew gives everyone the opportunity to come to the Cinnamon Ridge Country Cupboard store in rural Donahue for our farm fresh eggs, meat, cheese, and baked goods. 
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Game Over

4/15/2018

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​     With longer and warmer days, green fields are not far away. As spring gets into swing, these things remind me excitedly that baseball season is coming!
     When I was growing up, many warm days in the spring and summer my older brother Edwin and I would hustle through our evening livestock chores. Baseball beckoned! In the evening light, my brother and I were each a team of one. Though some might say our barnyard field was not ideal for playing baseball, our love of the game sparked our creativity to make it work out just fine. First and second bases were opposite ends of the barn, third base was the lone azalea bush, and home plate was the corn crib, which also served as a backstop for pitches that got by the batter. Everything on each side of the barn was a foul ball. A ball hit onto the barn roof would roll back down and was still in play. We wanted things competitive, so no ghost runners. Hitting the ball over the barn was a home run, but did complicate things, because it was common for our only ball to be lost in the cow yard.  Innings were frequently delayed by ball searches.
      One hot day in July we had no hay to bale, so we hustled through our chores and got done milking with plenty of time. We felt we could certainly get in several innings before dark.  Sure enough, I soon found myself ahead 6-4 in the bottom of the fifth. The previous inning, I had hit a home run over the barn. We were able to quickly find the ball because the cows were standing around it in a cluster. They were taking turns sniffing it, trying to figure out what had crash landed in their yard interrupting their evening grazing. Then, in the fifth, my brother got two quick strikes on me with change ups. And, with the count 2-2, I crouched ready: my brother was bearing down, and I knew a fast ball was coming. As the pitch came in, I got a great read on the ball, and, with a deep swing, hit a towering shot. It sailed high and curved foul, then the wind caught it and carried it further foul towards the house! We were both stunned and stood motionless as it sailed out of sight. All of a sudden we heard the splintering crash of our mom’s beloved front picture window. My mouth gaped, and my stomach instantly turned into knots. My brother was quicker to react, quipping “Game over, We both lose!” and sprinting out of sight into the corn field. Within seconds, my dad came out blaring, “What the Sam Hill is going on here?” and stomped into the barnyard to find me, alone, holding the bat.
      I was tasked with boarding up the window before dinner. I’d just gotten started when Edwin wordlessly appeared next to me to help; we completed the task in silence. At supper that night very little was said, although Edwin once broke the silence to ask “Did you find our ball?” Crickets. No answer was given.
We had to buy a new window, and when it arrived, we had to put it in. But baseball endured: we also got a screen to put in front of the window on game nights!
     With the start of baseball, get the grill warmed up! Check out our mouth-watering beef at our farm store, The Country Cupboard, or stop by and see us at the Freight House Farmers Market.
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The Day Pigs Fly

8/16/2017

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     ​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!
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My atypical day

5/28/2014

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One of the things that I like most about working on the farm is that I don't always know what I may be doing on a particular day. Things can change in a moment and they may change through out the day. This morning was one of those days that I was called to drive tractor. We are busy chopping hay for haylage and there were not enough drivers for hauling loads so I was asked to jump into a tractor and drive. 

Many of my non-farm readers may not know this, but tractors have different ways to get them into motion and how they shift. The chopping crew has their own tractors, therefore, only one of the tractors hauling loads is ours. I was pointed to a new tractor that was part of the crew's tractors. This tractor has 4 items needed to get the tractor in motion and moving faster. First it needs to go into a gear range A through E. A is the slowest, E is the fastest. Then on the steering column there is a forward and reverse, this is good for if the tractor is used as a loader. Then there is the turtle and the rabbit push button which has 4 gears to it. Last but not least, there is the throttle.

One of the nice features of the newer tractors is that they have quiet cabs and excellent sound systems. I am sure a few people who passed me on the road today saw me singing to the radio, but that's okay. Most of the people I met on the road today waved and I even recognized a few. I am sure a few people were surprised to see a tractor and wagon at the stoplights near the truck stops, just off of I-80. 


I was relieved from the tractor after lunch by a family friend and his small grandson. This little boy had just become a big brother this morning and it was made even more special by being with his grandpa and getting to ride in a big green tractor! Now it is back to my normal duties, answering emails, going through the mail and keeping up on the book work.




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Time Flies

5/2/2014

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The last two weeks have been very busy. But it was a good kind of busy. This past weekend was the culmination of almost two years of planning. Last weekend, my oldest daughter got married! The weather held off so that she had a warm, and mostly sunny day. She was a beautiful bride. Her father would have been proud. I am sure that he was smiling down on her.

At times like these, it is wonderful to have family and friends around to share in the joy of a young couple starting their lives out together. There is nothing better for the bride or the mother of the bride to see than to come into the sanctuary and see all the family and friends that have come to be a part of celebrating something very special. I know that many people rearranged plans to be a part of this special day. I know that we tease our children that they should elope, but I would not want to miss out on seeing any of my children say their vows. Having a front row seat allows me privy to much of the discussion between the bride and groom during songs or small interludes. 

Throughout life, there are pivotal moments when a parent realizes that their children are capable and can handle life. This past weekend was one of those moments for me. There have been other times, but all my daughters have shown me that they have learned how to handle life and the different curve balls that life can throw at them. What I observed was how well my daughter did planning her wedding. She did a wonderful job. Everything went off without a hitch. The bridesmaids and groomsmen knew where they were to be. The family knew when to be there for pictures. Food and cakes where there when they were supposed to be. My daughter and I had conversations about various items about her wedding, but for the most part, she handled this on her own. My part of the whole affair was listening to her ideas and giving her the confidence to go with them. The other part I helped with was protocol. Even with that we both had to reference outside sources.


Katie and Craig started their new life together and the rest of us went back to our lives. As a mother, I know need to get used to calling her by a different name, but not much can replace the smile I saw on her face after I called her by her new last name.

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    I am wife, mother, daughter, sister, grandma and farmer. I grew up on a beef farm in Minnesota, but now live on a dairy farm in Iowa.

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