day 18 of farmacology: we take breaks . . . sometimes

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

we do take breaks. Sometimes.  

We missed the prettiest leaves by about a week, but today we took a little hike at a local state park, and my farmer got to enjoy the weather from outside the cab of a tractor and without his work boots on. Success! 

  

Hiking while pregnant gave me a good foretaste of what growing older will be like. You have to watch where you place each foot like you're walking a mine field, you're basically just trying not to fall, and you lean heavily on your husband, who does his best to humor you with his a fake aged voice. 

  

You also take breaks to learn about acorns. (I told you we were old at heart.)

Here's a fun fact for the day: Did you know that acorns are poisonous to cows? [Click to tweet.]

Neither did I! What a coincidence! 

Not that you or I are busy spending our days cramming nuts down random cows' throats or anything, but it never hurts to know these things just in case. 

Or in the event you're someone phone-a-friend when a million dollar game show question is on the line. 

You can thank us later. 

Chris then pointed out that this plant looked like something I'd attempt to craft with, and as with most things, he's right. 

I left it there . . . but only because I'd probably get it home and then we'd all break out in hives or something equally awesome. 

Because I'm good like that. 

  

We also talked about coming back to that same park in a year and doing some hiking with a little buckaroo or buckarette . . . and how I'd carry the water and he could tote the baby. That's a dad rite of passage, right? Err . . . rite? Errr . . . 

Farmers, to quote Mike Row, are #notafraidtowork. But they're also not afraid to be a little spontaneous, take a little break, go on a little walk, and have a little chat with their wives. 

And that makes me more than just a little happy. 

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

day 12 of farmacology: farms help communities

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

we know that farms are an economic benefit . 

Ok. You probably figured that, but sometimes it's worth repeating. A lot. 

Farms bring jobs to their communities. Our farm hires men and women to milk cows three times a day, mechanics to keep the machinery in working order, calf feeders, heifer feeders, welders, construction workers . . . 

But we also provide work for people outside the farm. The mechanics at our local dealership sometimes have to fix our equipment. The local trucking company supplies drivers to haul our milk, bring in gravel or drop off feed. Local law enforcement and teachers work part-time driving trucks during silage season. The local dozer operator does dirt work on terraces. 

And then consider the money that goes back into the community as a result of the farm's purchases: gas, diesel, electricity, water, seed, fertilizer, tires, paint, equipment, concrete, steel, dog food for our four canines who eat about as much as all the cows combined . . . 

Then there's the auxiliary people whose jobs are also dependent on agriculture: the accountant who keeps tabs on the books, the milk inspector who checks on the safety of the food produced, the public water supply district staff, the seed salesman . . . 

Jobs for people doing the farming, employment for folks providing services to the farm, dollars that go back into organizations providing goods to the farm . . . all added benefits to farming . . . on top of producing delicious things like milk! 

Or pork. Because I'll always be a pig farmer's daughter. 

And that, to quote my farmer, is why "capitalism is so freaking awesome." Its benefits are so far reaching!

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. 

living in the south and eating jambalaya

Every few months, my farmer and I like to have this discussion where I try to convince him that living in Missouri = living in the South and then he tries to tell me that living in Missouri = living in the Midwest. 

Then I point out that people here have accents and drink sweet tea and it's basically case closed. 

In my mind anyway. 

It seemed fitting then that the last time we visited a used second-hand bookstore, I came home with a Paula Deen cookbook and immediately started stocking up on butter. 

I mean, we're dairy farmers, after all.

My goal this summer has been to use up food in our pantry and our freezer, and with smoked sausage patiently waiting to be thawed, Paula's jambalaya just had to be. 

I will confess that I didn't add the shrimp the recipe called for, namely because (1) we didn't have it and (2) ewww. Chicken would be  a perfectly lovely substitute, but I didn't take the time to cook one and shred it because I'm a bum like that.

Speaking of shredding chicken: You know the trick about cooking chicken breasts in your crock pot and then putting them in the mixer and letting the mixer shred them, right? Works like a dream. Better, even. 

So between some spicy jambalaya and some non-existent chicken, while I'm out of town this week, my farmer will be eating his fair share of Paula's classic dish, some lemon-garlic tilapia with asparagus risotto and . . . 

salads. Because sometimes when you've worked outside all day in abnormally warm September weather, a big class of lemonade and a taco salad hit the spot. 

And you know why? 

Because WE LIVE IN THE SOUTH. 

Of course. 

I'm glad we can agree. 

What are you chowing down on this week?

Paula Deen's Jambalaya 

1 cup long-grain white rice

3 T dried minced onion

1 T dried parsley flakes

1 T beef bouillon granules

1/2 tsp. dried thyme

1/2 tsp. garlic powder

1/2 tsp. black pepper

1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

1/4 tsp. salt

1 bay leaf

1 can diced tomatoes

1 can tomato sauce

1/2 pound fully cookie smoked sausage, cut into 1/4-inch slices

3/4 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined

1. In a medium bowl, combine the rice, onion, parsley flakes, bouillon, thyme, garlic powder, black pepper, cayenne pepper, salt and bay leaf. 

2. IN a Dutch oven, combine the rice mixture, 2 1/2 cups water, tomatoes, tomato sauce and sausage. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally until the rice is tender, about 20 minutes. 

Add the shrimp (or chicken) and cook until just opaque, 5-7 minutes; discard the bay leaf. Dish it up while it's hot! 

of grain bins and grandmas

My farmer and I are kind of like 80-year-olds at heart. We think concerts are too noisy, kids sass their parents too much and teenagers wear too little clothing. 

We also like to drive around on the weekends, just like grandmas and grandpas do when they take joy rides in the country. {And I mayyyyy just use these as prime opportunities to con some ice cream out of him afterwards.)

Despite what people tell you -- especially when they're driving through Iowa -- the countryside is actually quite beautiful. And if you know what you're looking for, there's a fair amount to see: waterways, wild turkeys, trees, goats. You can see it all if you just have a little bit of curiosity.