This is why I farm

Despite the challenges and frustrations that come with farming – or maybe because of them – I cannot imagine going back to the lifestyle we had before farming. A friend of mine once told me, "the deeper the love, the deeper the hurt". It's kind of like the physics law that states "every action has an equal but opposite reaction". With farming, the greater the challenge, the greater the joy. The challenges we face provide contrast for the joys we experience.

I watch Dan greet each cow with an imaginary name as she comes back into the barn. He then waits until they're all tied up before going around the barn looking for Dinah, our oldest cow, one of our most cherished cows, and the only one he recognizes. He finds her and proclaims, "Dinah, my favorite!" Every day his greeting is the same, and I am reminded this is why I farm.

A kitten climbs up into the stroller to nap on Monika's lap. She tries to say "kitty". And I know that she, too, will learn to love and respect all God's critters the way her brother and the generations of farm kids before her have. This is why I farm.

I stand guard at the gate while Glen brings straw to the heifers and the heifers come to me, waiting for their turn to have their ears and polls scratched and I think to myself, This is why I farm.

When we started farming, nearly five years ago now, some people thought we were crazy for choosing farming over the good, salaried jobs we had. This was the response I sent to one of them:

Hard work is what we grew up with and what we enjoy. We choose to farm because we enjoy spending the day with the people we love most in this world, taking naps together, eating our meals together, feeling fulfilled, making a difference, not answering to anyone but ourselves, solving our problems and making our own decisions, living and working in the open air, and experiencing the miracle of life on a daily basis; and for the million other reasons why farmers are called to this profession.

Is it hard? At times, yes. Is it unbelievably rewarding? 99% of the time. Without challenges in our lives, we cannot fully appreciate the rewards.

I have never felt more fulfilled, more purposeful than I do now.

These words have never been truer; this is still why I farm.

Why do you farm?

This is reality

There are never enough hours in the day to finish everything that should be done; something will have to wait until tomorrow. Some of tomorrow's to-do's will be pushed to the next tomorrow. And so it goes. The list never ends.

There's never enough money in the checkbook to do everything that could be done.

Learn to be self-satisfied, because, at the end of the day, nobody's going to say 'thank you' or 'good job'.

The days are long, but the years are short.

This lifestyle is not for sissies.

If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger.

Dinner is served

I'm a big fan of stove-top suppers. I tell myself that I could save time by using the crock pot more or by assembling a casserole in the afternoon to be baked while I'm outside doing chores, but I don't. Most of the time I rely on easy stove-top meals. We eat a lot pasta (prepared assorted ways) and stir-fried vegetables and meat with rice. Here are two of my favorite stove-top recipes:

Taco Skillet

Serves 5 – Ready in about 30 minutes.

Ingredients:
• 1 lb. ground beef
• 1 (1.25 ounce) envelop taco seasoning mix
• 1 cup taco sauce or salsa
• 1.5 cups water
• 1.5 cups uncooked instant brown rice
• Optional: 1 15-ounce can refried beans
• Optional: 1 10-ounce can petite diced tomatoes with or without chiles
• shredded taco blend or co-jack cheese
• shredded lettuce
• sour cream

Directions:
Brown ground beef in large skillet and drain. Stir in seasoning mix, taco sauce, water (use the water to rinse the taco sauce jar!), beans (if using) and tomatoes (if using). Heat mixture to boiling; stir in rice. Boil 1 minute; remove from heat. Cover and let stand 8 minutes. Fluff mixture; sprinkle with cheese. Cover and let stand 2 minutes more. Serve with lettuce and sour cream. Leftover taco skillet is great wrapped in a tortilla.

Cheeseburger Pasta

Serves 4 – Ready in 20 minutes.

Ingredients:
• 1 lb. ground beef
• 1 can cheddar cheese soup
• 1 can beef broth (or 1.25 cups water + beef bouillon)
• 1 cup milk
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup ketchup
• 2 cups uncooked whole wheat penne pasta (or other medium sized pasta)

Directions:
Brown ground beef in large skillet and drain. Add soup, broth, milk, water and ketchup. Mix well (a silicone whisk works really well for this if you're using a non-stick pan). Stir in pasta. Heat to a boil. Cover and cook over medium heat, stirring often, until pasta is tender.

Enjoy dinner!

What's your favorite easy meal?

Memories

On Friday, Dan found the video tape of our wedding day on the shelf in the office and asked if he could watch the "new movie". I obliged. I'd never watched more than the first couple minutes.

Dan was pretty excited to see all of the people he knew in the movie, and asked if he could go in the movie. The movie was bittersweet for me. It warmed my heart to remember all of the joy of the event and see all of the people who celebrated with us. I wept, though, when I saw my grandfather in the video. This was the first time I'd seen him since his death almost exactly a year ago. Maybe Dan found the video when he did for a reason.

We didn't finish the video until Saturday morning. Then, at noon, we got a phone call from my sister saying my dad had been brought to the emergency room with some sort of amnesia. He had no short term memory (kept repeating questions), thought the year was 2004 and couldn't remember anything from the past five years — including his grandchildren. By the time I had the kids ready and the car packed for the trip up north, the results of his EKG had come back normal, but he still couldn't recall any recent memories and was still repeating himself. Talk about scary! Just the thought of Dad not remembering Dan and Monika made my insides curl.

We're still up north now. Dad was discharged this afternoon. The CT Scan of his brain came looked normal, with no evidence of a stroke (one of the suspected causes) or brain trauma (the other suspected cause, since one of the panels on his squeeze chute fell on his head last October, hitting him hard enough that Dad said he could feel his brain bounce). His memory started to return by about 4 p.m. When we arrived at the hospital at 9 p.m. he recognized the kids and knew Monika's name was spelled with a K. He didn't remember the 45-minute conversation we had on Friday night, but after I told him he recalled that we'd talked about how to fix one of the stall dividers in the barn.

The doctor isn't sure what caused the temporary loss of memory. It turns out both my grandfather and my dad's uncle had similar experiences in the past, but family history doesn't help us make a diagnosis. It could have been transient global amnesia, a sudden, temporary episode of memory loss that can't be attributed to a more common neurological condition, such as epilepsy or stroke. Or it could have been a very mild, mini-stroke. Dad will be following up with his regular doctor this week to run some more tests. Regardless of the cause, Dad's condition was extremely frightening for him and for all the rest of us. It was a stark reminder that memory is not something we should take for granted. Take care of your brain!

Re-tethered

A couple weeks before we started farming, my cell phone died and I lost five years' worth of phone numbers. I was peeved. Cell phones were a lot more expensive than they are now, so instead of buying a new one at full price I decided to go without until I was eligible for a free phone. In the meantime, we started farming. It didn't take me long to realize that I didn't need a cell phone anymore. Glen was the person I called the most and now he was working right beside me 24/7. I cancelled my plan (and still had to pay the early termination fee after five years of being a Verizon customer because I'd signed a two-year contract 22 months before). Glen surrendered his phone when he left his position with the Department of Ag as well. So we went from being cellularly tethered to the world, to free (in a nonconformist sort of way) in a matter of weeks.

Honestly, I loved not having a cell phone. I loved not being bothered while I was working. I loved the greater sense of privacy that came with being unconnected. And I loved seeing the look on people's faces when I told them "no, I don't have a cell phone". Our families thought otherwise, but they learned to leave messages the old fashioned way and wait for us to call them back. Besides, if there was a serious urgency, they knew where to find us – in the barn.

Fast forward a couple years to our first year in Melrose. Dan was a couple months old when we hooked up the cattle trailer and traveled up north to bring a load of heifers down. On the way home, the trailer blew a tire on Highway 371 just south of Fort Ripley. Thankfully, my sister was traveling with us and she had a cell phone. The other fortuitous event on the trip was that Glen's brother and his family happened to be driving home from Pine River at the same time. They found us stranded on an approach. Glen and his brother took the car to get the tire fixed (there was no spare). The rest of us – me, Dan, my sister, my eight-months-pregnant sister-in-law, and my twin nieces – piled into the truck with all of our luggage to wait.

To make a long story short, we made it home just fine, albeit a bit later than we expected. One thing was clear, though, by the time we got home: we needed a cell phone. In our cellular society, nobody stops to help stranded motorists anymore because everyone figures everyone else has a cell phone which they've already used to call for help.

So, in the interest of traveling safely with an infant, I got a TracFone. It was a good compromise between being tethered and free. Very few people knew my number and I only used it while traveling.

Then, while we were putting up our second crop of hay this summer, Glen announced after making his seventh trip to the house for a phone call that he needed to get a cell phone before the corn harvest started. Much to his brothers' delight, Glen got a cell phone. (If I had charged his brothers a quarter every time they had told Glen he needed a phone, we could have paid for the first month's service.) We did some figuring and decided that if we cut our long distance usage in half, we could justify the added expense of the cell phone.

The cell phone has definitely saved Glen time and steps. Now, instead of coming to the house to grab a bite to eat, he calls the house and asks if I can bring a sandwich out with me. Or, rather than coming to the door, calls to ask if I could come watch a gate. I found myself calling the cell phone from the house, too. Well, this wasn't helping us reach our goal of less long distance used; in fact, it was costing us double to call each other.

We did some more figuring and now I, too, have a new cell phone. After nearly five years of eschewing the technology, I am once again tethered to the world. I've learned a lot in my five years without a cell phone, though. Like most of our society's conveniences, when used responsibly and in moderation cell phones can indeed make life a little easier. Just don't expect me to answer every time the phone rings.

Re-tethered

A couple weeks before we started farming, my cell phone died and I lost five years' worth of phone numbers. I was peeved. Cell phones were a lot more expensive than they are now, so instead of buying a new one at full price I decided to go without until I was eligible for a free phone. In the meantime, we started farming. It didn't take me long to realize that I didn't need a cell phone anymore. Glen was the person I called the most and now he was working right beside me 24/7. I cancelled my plan (and still had to pay the early termination fee after five years of being a Verizon customer because I'd signed a two-year contract 22 months before). Glen surrendered his phone when he left his position with the Department of Ag as well. So we went from being cellularly tethered to the world, to free (in a nonconformist sort of way) in a matter of weeks.

Honestly, I loved not having a cell phone. I loved not being bothered while I was working. I loved the greater sense of privacy that came with being unconnected. And I loved seeing the look on people's faces when I told them "no, I don't have a cell phone". Our families thought otherwise, but they learned to leave messages the old fashioned way and wait for us to call them back. Besides, if there was a serious urgency, they knew where to find us – in the barn.

Fast forward a couple years to our first year in Melrose. Dan was a couple months old when we hooked up the cattle trailer and traveled up north to bring a load of heifers down. On the way home, the trailer blew a tire on Highway 371 just south of Fort Ripley. Thankfully, my sister was traveling with us and she had a cell phone. The other fortuitous event on the trip was that Glen's brother and his family happened to be driving home from Pine River at the same time. They found us stranded on an approach. Glen and his brother took the car to get the tire fixed (there was no spare). The rest of us – me, Dan, my sister, my eight-months-pregnant sister-in-law, and my twin nieces – piled into the truck with all of our luggage to wait.

To make a long story short, we made it home just fine, albeit a bit later than we expected. One thing was clear, though, by the time we got home: we needed a cell phone. In our cellular society, nobody stops to help stranded motorists anymore because everyone figures everyone else has a cell phone which they've already used to call for help.

So, in the interest of traveling safely with an infant, I got a TracFone. It was a good compromise between being tethered and free. Very few people knew my number and I only used it while traveling.

Then, while we were putting up our second crop of hay this summer, Glen announced after making his seventh trip to the house for a phone call that he needed to get a cell phone before the corn harvest started. Much to his brothers' delight, Glen got a cell phone. (If I had charged his brothers a quarter every time they had told Glen he needed a phone, we could have paid for the first month's service.) We did some figuring and decided that if we cut our long distance usage in half, we could justify the added expense of the cell phone.

The cell phone has definitely saved Glen time and steps. Now, instead of coming to the house to grab a bite to eat, he calls the house and asks if I can bring a sandwich out with me. Or, rather than coming to the door, calls to ask if I could come watch a gate. I found myself calling the cell phone from the house, too. Well, this wasn't helping us reach our goal of less long distance used; in fact, it was costing us double to call each other.

We did some more figuring and now I, too, have a new cell phone. After nearly five years of eschewing the technology, I am once again tethered to the world. I've learned a lot in my five years without a cell phone, though. Like most of our society's conveniences, when used responsibly and in moderation cell phones can indeed make life a little easier. Just don't expect me to answer every time the phone rings.

Daycare dilemma

For me, part-time work is a great complement to parenting and dairy farming. Especially part-time writing. Balancing the workload between these three "gigs" is a bit crazy at times, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Writing keeps me in contact with other adults and gives me a chance to exercise the part of my brain that isn't utilized during toddler negotiations and day-to-day farm chores. And I think writing makes me both a better parent and a better farmer; having an outlet for my words keeps me thinking, analyzing and looking for the humor in everyday situations. Plus, I have endless opportunities to learn from other dairy farmers.


I do most of my work from home, which has definite benefits (like setting my own schedule) and drawbacks (like being interrupted mid-sentence by a cry on the monitor). My work for the Dairy Star also includes two days a month in the office, mostly proof-reading. I've come to love those two days. They're like a paid vacation. I don't have to do morning chores on Dairy Star days, I entrust my children's care to others and I get paid to nit-pick. Furthermore, the camaraderie in the Dairy Star office is great. 


The only problem with this arrangement is daycare. Most daycare providers aren't able to accomodate a two-days-a-month work schedule. We are incredibly lucky to have a daycare provider for Dan who is super flexible, but she doesn't have room for Monika because her "children-under-two" limit is met. So, until Monika turns two herself, I rely on friends and neighbors to watch Monika on office days, which sometimes works out very well and sometimes doesn't.

Winter watering

How silly of me to believe that two falls ago when we installed the Ritchie waterer in the heifer lot that my days of pail carrying, hose draining and ice chipping were over. Alas, they were not. My watering woes returned again this winter with the freezing temps.

We only intended to use our overflow heifer housing during warm weather, but seeing as how there's nowhere else to go with the group of heifers in overflow, they're spending the winter there. Without an automatic waterer. That means they need to be watered twice a day the old fashioned way.

The hose we used to water them this fall worked just fine, as long as it was properly drained, until one of the guys sliced it in two with the skidloader bucket while pushing snow. So, until a hose splice could be found (you'd think we'd keep a supply on hand), I started carrying pails. The overflow pen isn't that far from the milkhouse and there's only six heifers in the group, so carrying water to them really isn't that bad – or so I told myself. It actually takes less time than watering them with the hose did, so I decided to abandon the hose. It might be quicker, but there's definitely a difference in the physical effort required.

Last week, my elbows were so sore, I had to give them a pep talk before each loaded trip out to the tank. My chiropractor would probably choke if she knew I was lugging five gallon pails of water around. (Hey, Doc, at least it's balanced weight.) On the up side, you should see the biceps I'm growing! I keep telling myself that eventually my elbows won't be sore anymore – probably by the time spring comes and we can move the heifers.

I don't think this is what the wise guy had in mind when he said, "Work smart, not hard." Unfortunately, sometimes working smart requires capital investment and capital is something we happen to be short on. Instead, we substitute time and labor for capital. Maybe one day all of our heifer housing will have automatic waterers. By that time I'll either be ripped or need my elbows replaced.

The chicken gauge

We wean our heifer calves when they're at least six weeks old and eating starter well. Most of them are weaned right at six weeks. If they're eating starter well at five weeks, I start diluting their milk replacer. By six weeks, give or take a day, they're getting only water in their bottle. Then I start weaning them from the bottle. The process works very well – our calves have virtually no transition problems and we don't have to listen to bawling calves – until winter comes.

When winter arrives, I turn into a chicken when it comes to weaning calves. I fret about whether it's warm enough to move them out to the hutches, take their calf coats off or start the weaning process. I forget that calves, when well fed and well bedded, are incredibly hardy.

So, I've developed a simple decision making aid for working with the calves: if the chickens are out of the coop, it's warm enough to move calves, take calf coats off and wean calves. (At least the chickens are pulling their weight by contributing to my calf management because their egg production went south with the warm weather.)

The chickens seem to take more into consideration than just the temperature before they decide to venture out – like whether the sun is shining and how windy it is. If the chickens stay put, my calf management tasks wait another day. (I actually saw a couple of the molting chickens shivering the other day.) I figure a couple extra days on milk or a couple extra days wearing a calf coat is better than stressing them out when the weather is brutal.

A year to remember

Twenty years from now when we look back, most of us will remember 2009 as the year milk prices collapsed. Some probably don't want to remember 2009 at all. Here's my list of what we'd like to remember when we think about 2009:

• The safe arrival of our beautiful daughter, Monika, and the calmness she offers to counteract her brother's intensity.

• My grandfather's passing. The shock of his sudden departure was softened by the knowledge that his passing was the way he wanted it to be – quiet, at home, and un-fussed over.

• We finally met our goals of filling the barn, filling the tank and achieving a pregnancy rate of 25%.

• Heifer calves! During our first three years farming, we averaged a heifer calf birth rate of 30%. Last year we finally crept up to 50% heifer calves. This year it felt like we had heifer calves coming out of our ears. When the numbers were tallied at the close of the year, we ended up with 66% heifer calves.

• Despite the summer's odd weather, we were able to harvest enough forages to meet our needs for the coming year (and then some!), which will make 2009/2010 the first year we won't have to buy hay.

• A brighter view and a warmer house: we took advantage of the Project Reenergize grant program to replace about half of the windows in our house. The day after the new windows were installed we turned the thermostat down six degrees. We weren't exaggerating when we used to tell people heating our house was like heating a corn crib. Besides improving our heating efficiency, the new trim on the windows gives our house a whole new look.

• We finished the pit project. Finally.

• We took our first get-away together since we started farming.

I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but Dan's nap timer is going off, so it's time for me to wrap this up.

What will you remember about 2009?

Wonderful busy-ness

Yesterday marked the official end of our holiday season – we gathered with family for our final Christmas/New Year celebration. And that means my holiday blogging break is over as well. I have so much catching up to do that my brain feels like it's full to the top with words waiting to be shared. Before I continue, Glen and I would like to wish you a belated Merry Christmas and all the best for the new year. Thanks for reading our blog and making it one of the most popular pages on the Dairy Star site. I'm humbled.

Throughout the season, I often found myself outside whistling, "It's the most wonderful time of the year." And, really, it is. We don't spend near as much time with the members of our extended family as we should, so I cherish holiday gatherings for one reason: bringing people together.  But, as we all know, being away from the farm – even for only a couple of hours – means more farm work has to be crammed into the hours before and after the absence. With holiday shopping, our Christmas card and trying to get everyone out the door in a presentable state (i.e. bathed and dressed in their holiday best), this wonderful time of the year is also the busiest.

Adding to our busy-ness was the unprecedented number of calvings we had in December. I told Glen after our little calving spree last February that we should really re-think winter calving, but my pleas fell upon deaf ears. Ten cows freshened in December and we welcomed Holly, Charity, Jingle, Frosty, Mistletoe, Dolly and Dove to the herd. (Dolly was originally named Dasher, but Glen saw the name on the calendar and requested it be changed to something that didn't mean "quick sprinter". Since it seems like cows tend to grow into their names, I obliged and changed her name to something more docile. Funny he didn't object last year when I named December's heifer calves Dancer and Prancer.)

Thankfully, our list of cows to calve in January is a bit shorter. I'm looking forward to a break from all the wonderful busy-ness.

How was the holiday season for you?