kitchen wedding shower

 

This is my friend Martha. Martha's getting married!

Martha and I worked together for several years, but we started hanging out after working a conference together in Montana. I flew into Billings at 2:00 a.m. after Chicago flubbed up a flight. I had no baggage, which meant no clothes, no toothbrush, no nothing. You'd think it couldn't get worse, BUT THEN IT DID.

They gave me a Prius.

With California plates.

While in Montana.

For the girl who flew in in cowboy boots and now had no luggage, this was just too much.

(Actually, the real "too much" was wandering around Walmart at 3:00 in the morning with sticky contacts trying to figure out what I needed to survive until my suitcase arrived.)

But actually actually, the legit "too much" was when Martha showed up in HER rental vehicle . . . a beautiful, shiny, chocolatey brown . . . F-150.

 

My Prius could have fit in the bed of her truck. I died a little inside.

So when Martha asked if I wanted to head to a rodeo after we were done with work that evening, I said, "That would be great! . . . But you're driving. We are not going to be seen in Montana in a car that is basically a glorified bicycle."

And we've been friends ever since!

 

Now she's about to get married and because Martha is the queen of gift giving, taking care of other people, making complete strangers feel special, and just generally filling up people's cups, it was obvious we needed to make her feel even just a tiny bit as loved as she makes the rest of us feel.

 

She loves to bake. Hand pies, cakes, cookies . . . you name it, and I've agreed to taste test it.

We made an apple pie together once. And by "made" I mean, she made an apple pie and I ate it and it was delicious.

We also made dozens of cookies for the guys at the dairy during silage . . . and I think I ate at least half of those. Let's just say there's no one better suited for kitchen gadgets and new pie plates than her!

 

Keeping in the kitchen vein, we ate muffins, oohed and aahed over Kel's Cookie Jar's kitchen-themed cookies, and indulged in peanut butter granola parfaits with cranberry spritzers to wash it all down.

And we all decided we needed new Tupperware and griddles and cookbooks too.

Or Martha could just use hers and make us all something delicious to eat while we sit around and chat. We're really pretty flexible.

But perhaps that's just the point: Salad bowls and salt and pepper shakers break and shatter.

And yet, as my pastor noted in our wedding sermon, "There is a promise for Holy Marriage that makes Christians bold and confident. Five virgins were shut out, but the other five, who also fell asleep, who also failed in their duties, who were no better than those shut out and were in no way perfect, went in. They went in by grace. This is not a vain hope – either for marriage or for eternity. The undeserved mercy won by Christ’s death gives power for Christians to live Christian lives. That includes living together as husband and wife – a most Christian way to live."

So here's to you, Martha and Dan, to a life of forgiveness, grace, love, cookies, pancakes and God's unending mercy.

And as long as we're at it, thanks for traipsing around in a small hurricane with me so that I could snap an engagement picture or two. And then, when you are 20 and 30 and 50 years down the road, remembering God's goodness to you and your marriage, you can look back and see how He has preserved you, blessed you . . . and how awesome pie birds and KitchenAid mixers really are.

adopting a calf

Mrs. Miller's kindergarten class adopted one of our calves for the year. They wanted to adopt one through another program, but it turns out that dairy was fresh out of calves.

babies and mustaches

"Hard work, honesty, integrity, faith, family, love, forgiveness." 

That's what we're about . . . and something tells me, that's true of a lot of other farmers too.

PS Oh yeah, and Baby and my farmer's mustache make appearances too. 

all the things

After I got married, I felt awkward talking about marriage because I was the girl who, quite literally, wrote the book about being single. I know what it's like to be the single girl who wants to be married, the one who listens politely to all the relationship talk but secretly wishes someone would just put her out of her misery so she can extract herself from the conversation. 

And now that my farmer and I are expecting our first baby, I feel awkward talking about having a child, because I was the girl who prayed and waited for the Lord to give the gift of a baby and was so entirely over having to see pictures of babies and announcements on social media that I about found a wall to smack my head against. 

So if you are single and not married, or married and wish you were pregnant or had kids at home, you can skip reading any farther. Don't put yourself through it. I used to, and it just caused undue angst. Don't do that to yourself.

But before you go, know this: The Lord has a good and perfect plan for your life. It may not feel like it. It may not seem like it. But He is -- patiently and methodically -- working all things for good, drawing you close to Him, causing you to trust in Him alone. And that's better than any husband or baby out there. You can bank on it. 

_________________________________________________________

In this house, we love babies. A day old. A month old. A week old. Pre-born. Born. We've never met a baby we didn't like. Simply put, we believe they have value and worth regardless of their size. 

And we are so grateful to be surrounded by others who believe the same, which is, I'm convinced, why there is not a thing that our baby could still possibly need. 

Well, except for prayers. Baby will always need those. 

farm blog round-up: the best of the best!

It seems fitting to use the term "round-up" when it comes to farming blogs because old Western songs about round-ups and Roy Rogers' theme songs basically pop right into your head. 

Ok, or just mine. 

Winchester 

Also, you should be forewarned that this post has nothing to do with our farm dogs, although they do enjoy rounding things up.

Trash, for instance. Bottles. Corn stalks. Cardboard. A random glove. Pretty much anything they can find within a three-mile radius ends up in our yard. 

Now if I only could teach them to find discarded vintage Pyrex, we'd be set!

For those of you who may live in the city but are interested in farm life -- and I know you exist because you say so on Instagram -- get your mouse ready to do some clicking and bookmarking. Winter's coming, you know, and there's no better way to spend time waiting for the next blizzard to pass than pretending you're out on the prairie with Pa Ingalls trying to find your way from the house to the barn just by holding on to a rope strung between the two. 

Ok, maybe that isn't as fun as it sounds. 

Still. 

Colt 

Common Ground: The site and blog are written by farmers simply starting discussions about how they produce the food that ends up on your table. And they're super good at helping you break through all sorts of myths and misinformation. 

Country Linked: This is a sweet blog that's just right for all the people who grew up in the country and love hearing stories -- and seeing pictures -- of day-to-day life on the farm that brings all those memories right back. 

Cow Spots and Tales: Just go ahead and zip on over to Lisa's blog riiiiight now. She's a runner interested in nutrition, but she's also a dairy farmer, so all those stories you hear about whether or not it's good to eat meat and if there's antibiotics in your milk? She sets the record straight on pretty much all of them. 

Dairy Good Life: Sadie's blog's tagline says it all: "Cows. Kids. Chaos. It's all good." And it is! Plus, we once stayed at the same hotel in DC while attending two different conferences. We never got to meet, but our IG posts told us we were at least in the same vicinity and that counts for something! 

Petunia 

Dairy Carrie: You've probably seen or heard of Carrie on Twitter . .. or in Chipotle's nightmares . . . or on Facebook. She's a wife and a mom and a dairy farmer and a blogger all rolled into one -- with a sense of humor and a quest to make sure the truth is told to boot. 

Prairie Californian: Beautiful pictures, delicious meals, the truth about gluten and things you never even knew about raising sunflowers -- you'll get all that and more by following Jenny's blog! Just be prepared to leave hungry pretty much every time you visit. 

My Barnyard View: Janet's busy blogging about dairy . . . while learning how to drive a combine . . . all at the same time. I can hardly keep up! 

The Pinke Post: Katie is a wife, mom and agvocate who blogs from the prairie where she -- prepare yourself for this -- lives 97 miles from a Starbucks! That's worth reading about right there! 

You may not have grown up on a farm or ever lived on a farm or even been to visit a farm. But thanks to these ladies and social media, you can still meet the people who raise your food. You can learn how crops are grown. You can ask questions about what animal care looks like. You can hear their stories and tell them yours too. 

Like the time our dogs thought they wanted to take off after a coyote but then Petunia decided to just lay down and bark instead. 

Um, or maybe just go read a good blog about life in the country.

Yeah. 

Do that. 

And their tails all wagged happily every after. 

sugar cookie and icing recipe

My parents used to drop me off on one side of town on Halloween night. Then they'd drive to friends' house on the other side of town to help pass out candy. And I'd show up at some point--cold, worn out and hoping they hadn't eaten all the Snickers. 

Now that I think about it, this methodology seems a bit unsafe. I mean, no cell phone. No presumed route. No time by which I had to show up. No group to stick with. 

Just a silly costume, a pumpkin-shaped bucket and a promise that when I did get to their friends' house, there would almost assuredly be cookies that LOOKED like they were chocolate chip . . . but were in fact raisin. 

And let's face it: That's WAY more dangerous than turning your child loose on the town to snatch up all the sugar she can find. 

Raisins. 

Pfff. 

In dessert. 

Pfffft. 

I much prefer these sugar cookies instead. No surprises here. Just repeat goodness every time. 

No schlepping across town. No itchy orange wigs. No promises of Milky Ways only to find out the candy had all run out. 

See? There's safety in these cookies. 

So if you're feeling particularly emboldened by your candy haul this Halloween, or if you just need to bring dessert to Thanksgiving, or you're on a lifelong hunger strike against raisins too, try out these cookies. And then be sure to let me know how they turn out. 

I'll even eat a Snickers in your honor. 

Sugar Cookie Recipe

3/4 cup butter

3/4 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

2 3/4 c. flour

2 tsp. baking powder

salt

Heat oven to 400. Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Add powder and salt, one cup at a time, until the dough is stiff. Divide into 2 and roll out one half of the dough at a time on a floured surface to 1/4 inch thick. Do not refrigerate the second half. Cut out cookies and place on an ungreased cookie sheet for 6-7 minutes. Cool slightly and remove. 

Icing

3 egg whites

4 c. powdered sugar

5-6 tablespoons water

Beat for 7-10 minutes until stiff peaks form. 

day 14 of farmacology: ever ready

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we try to keep baked goods in our freezers. 

Because you never know when neighbors will stop by for coffee. You have to be prepared for these kinds of things. 

I tried it once. I baked a pan of bars, ate some with family, put the rest in the freezer . . . and then promptly proceeded to eat the rest one at a time over the course of the next week. 

Whoops. 

But when done properly, a person living in the country can always be ready for the moment anyone might stop by. 

Take one of my mom's friends, for example. She realized that she was in charge of taking cookies to the PTO meeting one evening, but the small-town grocery store was already closed for the night. 

So she called her neighbor and frantically asked if she had any cookies in her freezer that the neighbor would give up for a price. 

Of course the neighbor obliged. Because she had cookies. In her freezer. 

So whether you're living in the country or living in the city, pop those bars in the freezer. Double wrap that coffee cake. At least have some cookie dough handy. 

You never know when the neighbors might stop by. 

Or just need to borrow some. 

Because cups of sugar and an egg are so yesterday. 

Penzey's Banana Nut Coffee Cake

• BREAD
• 1/2 Cup pecans, chopped
• 1/4 Cup Cinnamon Sugar
• 1/2 Cup shortening
• 1 Cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 Cup bananas, mashed (2 medium to large very ripe bananas)
• 1 TB. pure Vanilla extract
• 1/2 Cup sour cream
• 2 Cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 
  
• CARAMEL ICING
• 6 TB. butter
• 3/4 Cup brown sugar, packed
• 6 TB. milk
• 1 tsp. pure Vanilla extract
• 2 Cups powdered sugar

• 1
  Bread: Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease either a bundt or tube pan and set aside. Combine the chopped pecans and CINNAMON SUGAR, set aside. With a mixer, cream the shortening and sugar together until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, mashed banana and PURE VANILLA EXTRACT. Add the sour cream and mix until blended. Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add to the batter and beat until blended. Sprinkle half of the sugar/nut mixture into the greased pan. Top with half of the cake batter. Follow with the second half of the sugar/nut mixture and end with the rest of the cake batter. Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes in the pan then turn out the cake to finish cooling. Top with Caramel Icing.
• 2 Icing: Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the sugar and the milk. Bring to a boil and continue to boil for 1 minute. Remove from the heat, add the VANILLA EXTRACT and gradually mix in the powdered sugar. This icing hardens up rather quickly so you need to work fast. If it hardens up too quickly for you add some more milk to thin it out.

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

day 9 of farmacology: naming animals

  

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

sometimes we name our animals; sometimes we don't.

I was homeschooled for a couple of years before I headed off to school. Whenever any kid found out my dad was a hog farmer, he inevitably asked, "Do you name your pigs?" 

I always thought that was a weird question. It wasn't because giving names to animals was awkward. It was because, well, how did people expect me to tell the difference between all those identical-looking pink pigs?

A few did have names. One sick pig got the distinct pleasure of hearing 8- or 9-year-old me read Charlotte's Web outloud. I perched on a footstool next to her while she recovered, thinking I was a pretty good nurse, although perhaps my literary selection could have been slightly more helpful. Her name was Princess. 

We don't name all our cows today, but sometimes we do. There's Snout, Lucy, Snowflake, Snickers, Reba, Ruby, Queen Mother, Talulah, Clementine, Gandalf, the General, Dorothy Lynch . . . Some also have numbers, and my farmer can recall many of those digits just as quickly as he can a name. 

We have a whopping six chickens at our house right now. Our rooster's name is Horace, but the five hens have no names. We've had well-named cats too, like . . . Truck Kitty and . . . Little Kitty. (Ok, so we struggle in the cat moniker department.)

And that's not even mentioning the four canines who keep all coyotes, mailmen, falling leaves and raccoons at bay. 

Some farmers name all their animals. Some don't. Some, like us, go for the combo approach.

But if you come to the farm, and you spot a calf that you think is just downright adorable, tell us her number and give us her name. 

We'll remember both. We promise. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

day 8 of farmacology: neighbors helping neighbors

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we take care of our neighbors, and they take care of us. 

Here in Missouri, we're falling asleep to the sound of grain bins drying corn and combines running late into the night. 

And coyotes. 

But it's also one of the times when we get to see most clearly how neighbors take care of neighbors here in the country. 

You shouldn't be surprised if you see two pick-ups stopped on a gravel road so farmers can have a little chat. 

And you shouldn't be surprised if you see a Gator driven by your neighbor go whizzing by, only to have him wave and holler, "Hey!" as he kicks up dust. 

And you definitely shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor offers you three puppies, and even though you already have two dogs, you somehow end up taking two puppies anyway. 

Uffda. 

You shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor brings you a package because the mail man got your houses mixed up.

And you shouldn't be surprised if his wife drops a batch of cookies by at Christmastime just because. 

And you shouldn't be surprised if you get sick and all your neighbors band together to bring your harvest in because you can't. 

Like this farmer in Illinois who was blessed to have 40 folks show up to bring in his harvest. 

Or this farmer with the pesky pancreas who saw 60 people turn out to harvest his wheat. 

When I was a young girl, a farmer passed away and the whole town showed up to harvest his widow's crop. Some people drove combines. Some drove tractors with grain carts. Some hauled semis to town. Some made sandwiches and side dishes. Some ferried coffee and hot chocolate back and forth from the house to the people driving the machinery. 

We may not live right next door to each other. We may not share a trash can or a backyard fence or even a block party. But we do keep tabs on -- and take care of -- each other, and in this day and age, that counts for something. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

day 7 of farmacology: community gardens

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we keep tabs on our neighbor's gardens. You know, just in case theirs look better than ours. 

I'm no gardener. I grew up in a garden -- because my mom made me help her plant and harvest vegetables I didn't want to eat anway -- but the two gardens I've planted since moving to Missouri have been, well, lackluster. 

Last year, we got a little -- shall we say -- overzealous with the pepper situation. We planted a cowhorn pepper, which is apparently one of the hottest peppers known to man . . . and which multiplies more quickly than rabbits. 

We couldn't get rid of them fast enough -- ok, or at all -- so I dried them in a low-temp oven, stored them and have been using them in salsa ever since. 

And just to clarify: When I say they're hot, I mean they're so hot that a quarter of one pepper in an entire vat of salsa makes my farmer, who has taste buds of steel, break a sweat. 

So that happened. 

This year, it rained all spring. As in, I planted two perfectly straight rows of carrots, and then it proceeded to rain for the next EIGHT YEARS. Or maybe just the next month. But I definitely blame that rain on the fact that we ended up with a few tomatoes, a couple servings of asparagus, a handful of zucchini and, if we're lucky, a sweet potato. 

LAME.

Thus the reason we keep an eye on our neighbor's gardens, just to make sure that whatever we planted that's dying or not producing isn't a personal problem on our part. 

Plus, we're nosy like that.

I am not at all above asking my hair stylist if her tomatoes are growing or how her sweet corn turned out. Because if by chance her tomatoes didn't produce or the ears of her sweet corn were tiny, then there's hope for me. 

Regardless of the cowhorns. 

Or the rain. 

Or, just maybe, the gardener herself. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

Day 2 of farmacology: calm

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we love it when our guests find it 

calm and relaxing on the farm. 

We know life in town can be busy. Traffic is a beast. Target aisles are crowded. The drive-thru line at Starbucks is long. Sirens and car horns and squealing tires are like a soundtrack.

They're why we absolutely love it when you sit down on our decks or at our kitchen tables and say, "Oh, it's so quiet!" or "I so needed this!" or my personal favorite, "I've clearly been doing life wrong."

It makes us feel all warm and mushy inside, similar to my favorite homemade mac-n-cheese recipe that I never make because I'd eat the entire 9 x 13 pan all by myself. 

my parents' farmhouse 

We may not be able to take you to the hippest restaurant or the newest coffee shop. 

We may not have a historic downtown district or a famous landmark. 

But we can give you quiet.

We can give you beautiful sunrises and a crowing rooster. 

We can take you for rides through the country where the traffic is so thin you don't even have to use your turn signal. 

We can give you cows who chew so loudly you can hear them from the front steps and a pile of puppies who slobber you with love. 

(It's like covering you with love . . . but better.) 

We can give you a 4-wheeler or Gator ride deep into a pasture and a grove of trees where gooseberries grow wild and bridges that are no longer used are overgrown with vines and plants. 

We can give you the sound of frogs and grain bin fans and cicadas at night.  

We can even supply you with full moons and yipping coyotes, if you're into that sort of thing. 

We know farm life isn't for everybody. 

But just like we enjoy coming to the city for all the excitement it has to offer, we love it when you can find rest and relaxation in our part of the world too. 

Friends, thanks for letting us take care of you. We can't give you a clear path through eight lanes of traffic or silence the ambulance siren at 2:00 in the morning so you can sleep. But we can give you the calm of the country when you need it the most, and that makes us pretty happy too. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

from farm to freezer

 These are the faces of a husband and wife who have vowed not to raise broilers again until they have children old enough and in need of chores. 

how to set up a farm tour

June is National Dairy Month, and there's no better way to celebrate cows, dairy and farming than to visit a farm! 

If you'd like to take a tour of a working farm--and it doesn't have to be a dairy farm!--to discover how turkeys are raised, what milking cows looks like and how much pigs love laying under misters, here are a few pointers to get you started. 

little milk drinkers and cutie yogurt eaters

Hey, everybody. This is Tamara. 

Tamara: Hi, everybody.
Everybody: Hi, Tamara. 

L-R Me, Tamara and Lynne: the Three Stooges

Tamara and I worked together when we both lived in Indiana. We got all sorts of good stuff done while our friend Lynne entertained us with her general hilarity. 

Now, unfortunately, none of us live in the same state, but Tamara lives a couple hours away in Kansas, which means we came up with the pretty spectacular idea to meet halfway in between our houses -- in Kansas City -- at . . . wait for it . . . IKEA.

But when she's not making me laugh or meeting me for lunch and a desperate attempt to buy all manner of Swedish furniture, Tamara and her husband, Ben, are the hilarious, insightful and downright fun mom and dad to four kiddos: three spunky girls and one thoughtful young man. 

They're also milk drinkers and yogurt eaters, and that just makes us appreciate them even more! Last summer, Tamara and the kids even drove from Kansas to meet our cows and cats and dogs firsthand. We loved having them, and they loved being here. 

Never been to a dairy farm? Got kids? Then cozy up to your computer for just a minute while Tamara explains why her kids love yogurt and why she loves buying it.