photo blog header_zps71kqewye.png  photo graze_zps8tw4ef8f.png  photo herd_zpsctgnsufk.png  photo farmstead_zpsmyk28rxe.png  photo faith_zpsyq38oy0o.png  photo general store_zpsr2oehrmb.png


"Grab a flashlight," he said.
"You just have to stand by the gate and make sure none of the cows get out on the road," he said.
"It'll be fun," he said.
Actually, he never said that last part.
One of the sweetest parts of my day is when the feed truck drives down the gravel road past our house. The heifers run after it, literally kicking up their heels as they follow it.
Not that I blame them. If a truckload of pizza showed up at my door every day, I'd perk up too.
Tonight, Chris was the feed truck driver and it was already dark outside. Whoever's behind the wheel of the truck has to drive up, undo the fence, and drive through the gate fairly rapidly so that none of the cows kick their heels up and right out of the pasture.
My job tonight was to drive to the gate, flashlight in tow, and make sure that none of the heifers made a break for it as he drove through it.
{This causes me heart palpitations, the reasons for which stem from my childhood, when I was in charge of watching gates for my dad as he was cleaning out hog pens. I'm not saying I've been scarred for life, but did you know that 250 pound hogs look like KING KONG TO A CHILD? I mean, that's just, you know, what I've heard.}
The plan was all well and good . . . except the part where I totally missed where the opening in the fence was. I drove up to the next driveway, turned around, and headed back even more slowly this time, intent on finding where the gate was before my husband arrived and the cows were anxious to get their dinner on.
It was then, as I creeped along in the car in the dark, that I noticed Chris merrily bouncing along in the feed truck . . . in the pasture. He had already found the gate in the dark, opened it, and driven through, all while making sure the cows followed him and not me.
{This may also serve as the opportune time to mention that I wrecked a loaf of bread and clogged the garbage disposal this week as well. #winning}
Being the kind and ever-forgiving man he is, he said something like, "Thanks for being the decoy so I could sneak in the gate, honey. See you soon!" as he drove off to the dairy, his dog rolling his eyes in disgust at me from the front seat.
All this is to say that you can take a girl out of the city . . . but be patient, world. It may take a small lifetime and a six-pack of flashlights to find her farm girl back again.


  1. This is all sorts of awesome. I laughed out loud early on because I KNEW where this story was headed.

  2. Farm girl stories are much more fun than city girl stories. (You have one job: wife - and I'm sure you are terrific at it. The bread loaves, garbage disposals and cow decoys are just those little refinements accomplished by women who have had more than a week or two on the job.)


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