Living in the country could be very isolating, and our many chores to do didn’t leave much time for visiting. My parents combated this by going dancing three times a week. They would go to the Kol Ballroom in Davenport, Club Mocan in Moline, and Fairyland in DeWitt. Mom and Dad loved the social aspect of it, getting off the farm and chatting with their friends. They would dance the twelve dances and sometimes go for a bite afterwards. The dances started at eight, and they’d get home a little after eleven.
 
     Most of the time my siblings and I stayed home and finished chores while Mom and Dad got dressed up and went off dancing.  When we were each around 12, however, we were taken along so we could learn to dance. I balked at going along to the dance when my turn came around, so I was told that learning to dance would improve my basketball skills. I begrudgingly went along and danced with my mother. As I got better, I would sometimes dance with some of their friends. I learned to dance the waltz, foxtrot, polka, tango, and two-step. Despite knowing all these dances, I still wasn’t a starter on the basketball team.
 
     One night some friends at the Fairyland dance told them the Kenny Holfer band was playing at Club Mocan in Moline and invited them to go. Mom and Dad hadn’t been there before, so my father got some general directions from the friends and felt confident he could find it. The next week they set out in the 1966 Ford Galaxy 500 to Moline. The general directions proved to be not enough, and they were soon lost in the ravines and dead-end streets of Moline. He’d head south, find he wasn’t far west enough and be forced to go back towards the river to find another crossroad. My mother suggested asking for directions, but he preferred to trust the map in his head. By the time they got to Club Mocan, it was already the third dance!
 
    Once when arriving at another dance at Fairyland, they found their friend Ted Musal struggling to unlock his vehicle, having locked the keys inside. Many men tried to jimmy it open without success. My father, being the coach of my little league baseball team, had the gear in the backseat. Ted finally got so frustrated he grabbed one of the baseball bats and broke the window.
 
     A delicious steak would be a great Valentine’s dinner to share with your dance partner. Steak—and many other delicious cuts of meat—are available in the Cinnamon Ridge Country Cupboard, along with our cheese, eggs, and baked goods.   

​When I was growing up on the farm, 4 AM was about the usual time Rooster Cogburn would rouse everyone, belting out, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” His raspy crow was a daily reminder that our farm had not only dairy cattle and a few hogs, but also chickens and ducks. We didn’t keep as many chickens as my grandparents, however.  At their farm, they really had chickens: not just one barn, but several which housed more than one thousand hens! In fact, Grandma and Grandpa were so proud of their chickens, they showed them all over the Midwest, including some big shows in Chicago. They would work year round to find the perfect flock to take to exhibition.
     Even though we didn’t have as large a flock as my grandparents, I still found myself with plenty of chores caring for our chickens. Two of my least favorite jobs were cleaning the manure out of the hen house and gathering the eggs. I was constantly banging my head against the rafters, since the roof was only five feet tall. A throbbing head only made shoveling chicken manure even more unpleasant. When it came to gathering eggs, I found myself in a dilemma. If I gathered eggs during the day, I risked getting pecked by the hens. If I waited until night time, I could very likely encounter an opossum or skunk in the hen house. I usually decided being pecked was the lesser of the two evils.
     For my mom, our chickens provided a way she could raise a little money for those extra things our family needed. People in town wanted fresh eggs, and Mom was happy to sell them ours. Most of our egg deliveries occurred after church on Sundays, when we were already in town—and looking clean and presentable. It was my job to take the eggs from our car to the houses. Like the mail man, we delivered in all weather.
     One January Sunday, the sidewalks were coated in ice. When we pulled up in front of a house where we needed to deliver eggs, I stepped out of the car, holding the eggs carefully, and eyeballed the particularly long walk.  My church shoes did not provide much traction, so I slipped and skidded my way up to the front steps. I was feeling pretty good, having made it that far unscathed, and climbed up the steps a little more quickly.  Suddenly, I lost my footing on the very top step. Out went my feet, and up went the egg carton.  Almost in slow motion, I saw the egg carton lid flip open, and twelve eggs went flying everywhere. What a Humpty Dumpty mess! Most fell on the porch, but a few catapulted up to splatter the front door and window. I’m sure Mom watched the whole egg-citement from the car in dismay.  By the time I finished cleaning up the mess and had retrieved a replacement dozen eggs from the car, I could not feel my fingers—or my toes inside those slickery church shoes. From then on, I always remembered to put my tennis shoes in the car on Sundays for egg deliveries!
Fresh eggs are as yummy now as they were then! With or without tennis shoes, you can enjoy our farm-fresh eggs, along with beef, pork, cheese and baked goods, at the Cinnamon Ridge Country Cupboard located on our farm northwest of Donahue.

​     As I was growing up on our rural Scott County farm, money always seemed to be stretched thin for our family.  While buying new shoes for the six kids in our family was nearly impossible, our farm (along with hard work) always provided our family plenty of food.  We had a large garden, and Mom and the girls would can fruit and veggies so we could eat them all year round.  The farm also provided fresh beef, pork, chicken, eggs and lamb. We made our own bread, sometimes even from the wheat we grew and ground ourselves. Mom had the amazing skill of making delicious meal after delicious meal, just using whatever was in season or had come into the icebox.  Vegetable beef soup, sour cream muffins, ham and broccoli casserole, fresh peach pie, chicken and rice...  My mouth waters just thinking about the wonderful meals Mom would have waiting for us after chores.
     While we enjoyed an abundance of food from our farm, Mom and Dad weren’t above finding a good deal.  They would routinely buy large sacks of day-old bread cheap from Bon-Ton Bakery, located near Five Points in Davenport.  Mom was an expert at converting unappetizing day-old bread into yummy, piping hot toast.  The stale bread, expired pastries, and other baked goods that weren’t edible by us, we fed the cats, dogs, chickens and pigs.  Sometimes the bags included some “day old” pet treats (that is, treats Bon-Ton made especially for pets).  Our border collie, Doggo, loved those!
On one summer night, my older brother and I were finishing up milking the cows and feeding the animals. It was past 8 pm, and we hadn’t had supper yet.  But as my stomach rumbled, I remembered my parents were dancing at the Col Ballroom—that is, Mom wouldn’t have a fresh meal waiting for us.  Yes, she’d probably left instructions for reheating some leftovers, but I resigned myself to the idea of a less than tasty meal.  As my brother and I were throwing outdated bread out of the bag to the chickens, we came upon a bunch of Bon-Ton’s “doggie” donuts.
     My brother paused for a few seconds, weighing the bag in his hand. He then said to me, “If you eat one doggie donut, I’ll eat two.” Seeing how I was hungry (with the unexciting prospect of a leftover casserole), somehow I thought this would be a great deal. I said ok and stuffed one in my mouth. It was pretty stale, dry and tasteless. Although it was hard to get it down, I was eager to see my brother to take his turn. But, after I swallowed my last bite, instead of him eating the one he was holding, he proposed, “If you eat two, I’ll eat four.” Not yet seeing a problem with this, I ate another. By the time I finished the second one, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t even spit. My brother started to laugh, and I realized I had been had. As he was running away, I picked up a hard doggie donut and slung it at him. My aim was better than my wits, and it hit him right in the back.
To this day, my wily brother and I still talk about those good times on the farm growing up and eating (most of the time) wonderful food fresh from the farm.  Today at Cinnamon Ridge Farm, we offer many of the same “fresh off the farm” items (BUT NO doggie donuts) at our farm store, at the food hub, and at Freight House farmers market. Stop by in person or check us out on the web at www.tourmyfarm.com.

On the farm, October is a month of harvest. In Scott County and all throughout the midwest, corn is king and has played a significant role in our food, fiber and fuel. Today we can see the latest technologies and hybrids at the Farm Progress Show. But from 1920-1941, people gathered by the thousands at corn husking competitions. For the 1940 national corn husking competition, there were more than 120,000 people gathered at the Henry Keppy Farm Northwest of Davenport. With food tents, a parade, vendor booths and live radio broadcasts, it was more than just a husking competition. It was a great honor for Scott County to be selected for the national competition.
My father, George A. Maxwell and his brother Johnny were a contestants at the Keppy farm competition. At home, he and Johnny would practice husking quickly and throwing ears into the double box wagon to prepare for the competition. Their goal was to always have three ears of corn in the air going into the wagon. Despite all the practice, neither my father nor uncle placed in the contest.
The 1941 contest was the last, as the United States entered World War Two that December. After the war, mechanical harvesting took over and husking contests were just a memory.
Today we have harvesters that steer themselves, harvest 12 or more rows at one time and harvest as much corn in a minute as a husker could do by hand in an hour.
Cinnamon Ridge Farms offers many harvest treats, including pumpkin bars at our store. Please visit us at tourmyfarm.com.

​For over ten years, Cinnamon Ridge Farm has been exhibiting Jersey dairy cattle at the Iowa State Fair. All cattle must remain at the fair for four days, so in between feeding and caring for our cows, I get a chance to explore the fair. My two favorite buildings are the Agricultural Building and the Food Building: great people and fun exhibits!  Three years ago, I was chatting with a supervisor in the Food Building. The supervisor let me know that interested companies or individuals can create and sponsor contests.  I’ve always loved a good competition, so I decided to create one: a cheese curd recipe contest!  For the past two years, we at Cinnamon Ridge Farm have sponsored this contest in the State Fair’s Food Building. Using a recipe that includes cheese curds, entrants submit a product in hopes to win $100, $75 or $50. The contest started with five entries in 2016 and almost tripled to fourteen this past summer.
 
On its first year, my cousin Yogi, who exhibits his sheep at the Iowa State Fair, was not busy on the Thursday morning of the contest. I asked if he’d like to come along with me and observe the judging. He agreed, so we headed over to the Food Building. While we watched the contest, I asked the supervisor what happens to the entries after the judges have finished tasting them. She replied, “They get thrown away.” Yogi and I were both feeling a bit hungry, and as farmers, we wanted to do our part in curbing food waste in the United States. As the contest progressed, Yogi and I ate whatever the judges hadn’t.  The judging concluded, and everyone prepared to hear the results. When first place was announced, Yogi and I looked at each other and agreed that, yes, it had been the most delicious. The supervisor came over and asked where the remainder of the first prize entry was, as it is customary for the winning entry to be displayed with a blue ribbon for the remainder of the fair. Yogi and I were forced to sheepishly admit that we had eaten all of it, not wanting such a delicious dish to go to waste! The supervisor was clearly displeased. But we learned our lesson, and at this year’s contest, we made sure to wait until the results were announced before eating the leftovers.  Even the first runner-up was delicious!  Yum!
 
You can now find the award-winning Cinnamon Ridge Cheese curds at North Scott Foods in Eldridge, along with Freight House Farmers Market and Cinnamon Ridge Country Cupboard. Happy Thanksgiving!

     ​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!