September 2013 – Modern Farm Wife

10 Things I Learned in September

09/30/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife10 Comments

Even though it’s 70 degrees in Michigan today, fall is really here and October really begins tomorrow. (For the record, Mother Nature, I could live with a 70-degree fall. Just saying.) Thus, it’s time for me to reflect on what I learned in the month of September. This is an exercise I started in July and it’s a nice way to reflect, find meaning, or share awesome things from Buzzfeed.

You can check out what I’ve learned in previous months here and here. For now, let’s take a peek at September.

10 Things I Learned in September

1. Two people can paint 400 linear feet of baseboard in two hours. Yay for teamwork.
Before Dairy Man and I could have 1,400 square feet of new flooring installed in our house, we had to tear up every inch of old baseboard. I managed to grab DM on his last Saturday before corn harvest and we made quick work of 35 new 12-foot sections. Phew.

2. The Downton Abbey theme song has lyrics.
What? It took some time to soak in this shocking news. For now, I am waiting with breathless anticipation for the assuredly tragic Season 4 to begin on January 5, 2014.

3. If I’m coming straight from work, I should always stay in my car when taking photos around the farm.
Unless I’ve had time to change into my snazzy farm boots, I should never leave the safety of my car to get a better photo of the manure pit. No matter how safe the ground looks. Or how quickly I think I can run. I submit this photo to the discussion. It took me 10 minutes to scrub all that muddy clay off my heels.

4. Simultaneously planning SEVEN events at work this fall has increased my peanut M&M consumption to alarming levels.
If only I had the urge to stress-eat kale. My job is crazy right now. I enjoy the rush, but something about stress makes peanut M&Ms absolutely irresistible. Dang it.

5. Some people actually think about the zombie apocalypse.
Like my husband, for example. This hasn’t come up in three years of marriage. But apparently there is a section of Dairy Man’s brain that seriously thinks about the world being overcome by the ravenous walking dead. I had no idea until we watched World War Z and DM filled me in on his “if zombies attack” plans. Something about climbing the 80-foot silo and picking off the undead with his shotgun. #redneckjustice?

6. Goats are awesome. And I want some.
However, until this point my desire to have cute little goats has been overridden by my desire to not be responsible for goats. Jersey is about all I can handle. And he doesn’t eat tin cans.

7. Apple-cider-scented candles are the best.
Now that fall is upon us, I have at least two apple-scented candles burning in our house at any given time. It smells like fall. Or the inside of a warm pie. And my soul is happy.

8. The bovine ladies might love fall more than I do.
They might not get to wear chunky-knit sweaters or warm their hooves over a steaming glass of hot cocoa, but our girls love this time of year. Since they are most comfortable around 50 degrees, fall is the perfect time to be a cow.

9. I need to teach Jersey to balance things on his head.
Just look at Zelda. Nuff said.

10. Even during corn harvest, I am not alone.
I was absolutely overwhelmed by the response to last week’s post on when I don’t accept farm life with grace. It’s comforting to know there are so many other people who feel the same way about this terrible, wonderful, beautiful thing called farm life. The response lets me know unequivocally that I am not alone. Thank you for sharing your own stories and for being awesome. You’re not alone either.

Farm wife, Marriage

When I Don’t Accept Farm Life With Grace

09/26/201301/15/2020by Modern Farm Wife100 Comments

This may just be my old age talking, but I feel like this year is moving at warp speed

I often feel like I’m trying to hold time in my hands. But time is like water, a liquid substance. It spills over and between my fingers, despite my best attempts to store it, to savor it.

I know I’m not alone. If I did an informal survey of everyone I know in the world, I’m sure we all have a deep yearning for “more time.” We’re always rushing, always checking our Facebook newsfeed, always multitasking, always packing our weekends with fun activities. It’s a normal thing, to be busy.

But it’s also a farming thing. Times ten.

This summer alone we planted corn, harvested multiple cuttings of hay, built a barn, dug a five-million gallon manure pit, irrigated our corn (thanks to a lack of rain), and tried to plan out the future of this dairy. All of these things have taken place alongside weddings, birthdays, weekends away, illness, dog grooming appointments, extensive home renovations, parties, personal crises, and a million loads of laundry.

Dairy Man finds it nearly impossible to sit still and to quiet his mind. I struggle with the same. Frankly, in farming, you don’t often have the luxury of calm. It often feels like we bounce from one “crisis” to another. Just when you get the bulk tank fixed, a cow goes into labor. Just when you finalize the milking schedule, someone gets a tractor stuck in the mud. DM is on-call 24 hours a day, and that makes it nearly impossible to ever truly relax, unplug, or find calm.

And when farming never slows down, how is a boy to find time for things like dinner at the dining room table, home repairs, or nights out with friends?

I feel guilty piling anything on. If I’m honest, this can be isolating. Being married to a farmer means (trying) to put everything else in life on hold from April to October in an attempt to keep your husband sane. I struggle with this every single day. I envy friends who have husbands home by six, who are able to take vacations, who tackle house projects as a team.

I struggle not to feel alone, disenfranchised. The farm trumps most things, but it’s not always easy to swallow. I work full-time and try to see friends and family, make nutritious meals, and keep a clean home. Yet I constantly feel behind. Deep within the dark and shameful places of my heart, I resent having to do everything (non-farm-related) by myself. I’m not proud of those feelings. They creep up on me as smoky tendrils, slowly squeezing out joy and positivity.

Honestly, there are times I’m exhausted, I’ve had a terrible day at work, the house is a mess, the dog needs a walk, everything feels chaotic, and I just can’t handle another farming crisis with understanding and grace.

Sometimes I’m not really listening. Sometimes I’m making a grocery list in my head or wishing we could talk about literally any other topic in the world but the dairy. Sometimes I can’t tear my attention away from the dishes he forgot to put in the dishwasher. Sometimes I resent the irrevocable monopoly the farm has on my husband’s brain and respond with frustration or anger.

Those are the moments I regret. When I’m not gracious. When I don’t control my feelings. When I’m not calm. When I choose to be selfish.

But marriage can’t be selfish, especially marriage to a dairy farmer. I chose that man and thus, I chose this life. We will spend our entire lives trying to balance, trying to carve out time for anything other than the dairy. You can’t compartmentalize farming. It’s not a job; it’s not a hobby. It’s a life.

Generally I’ve come to accept this. The Dairy Man pulls himself away during the “slower” times of the year and I try to accept the periods of insanity with understanding.

Because even when he tracks manure into the kitchen or never responds to my “When will you be home?” texts, I love that man. I admire the passion he feels for this dairy. I know he wouldn’t be happy doing anything else. And even when I’m feeling neglected, I know for a fact that he would do anything for me.

Love and marriage aren’t about perfect equality. There are times where we must carry each other. As my mom reminded me in my first year of marriage, “you can’t be so concerned about things being perfectly 50/50. You both have to give 100 percent–all of the time. Things aren’t always going to be equal. You might have to take turns carrying the other. But you should both always try to give 100 percent. That’s what love is.”

This quote still convicts me. While it’s so tempting to succumb to unhappiness or frustration this time of year, the Dairy Man needs me now more than ever. It is my turn to carry. Whether through delivered dinners, a kind and patient temperament, or a listening ear.

There’s nothing fair about it. But there’s nothing fair about life or love. Happiness comes in the realization that we’re here to carry each other. If you find someone willing to carry you–even an occasionally distracted Dairy Man–you are richly blessed.

So I will enjoy my fall nights of solitude. I’ll read, take walks, watch girly TV shows, bite my tongue, and make sure that DM is fed and loved. Jersey the dog accepts this time of year with far less grace than I (since he’s stuck in the house for a few weeks), but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a heaping dollop of peanut butter.

For me, I find catharsis in an evening walk through the rustling corn. A good book and a steaming glass of apple cider. A few quiet moments spent sitting in the grass with Jersey before the sun sets.

All seasons are beautiful and messy. All seasons bring frustration and joy. All seasons make up a life.

And I am grateful.

Family

The Calm Before the (Corn) Storm

09/12/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife14 Comments

The tall, swaying stalks out my bedroom window make it impossible to ignore: fall is here. More specifically, as the Dairy Man keeps reminding me, corn harvest is almost here.

DM is charged with nervous energy and dancing around the house humming “It’s the mooooost wonderful tiiiiiime of the yeeeeeear.”

I, on the other hand, start hearing the music from Jaws: “Daaaaa dum, daaaaa dum, daaaaaa dum da dum daaaa dum.” This week truly is the calm before the storm. Before the sharknado of farming activities, if you will.

People, a corn storm is brewing.

It’s time to prepare, to brace myself. Call it mental calisthenics. As I stand on the precipice of a few weeks alone, it’s important to stretch my farm wife coping mechanisms (and stock up on dry cereal and wine).

This is my third corn harvest out in the boondocks (read about year one and two here). I’m not a rookie. But it will still be a shock to my system when DM slips into the delirium that can only be caused by corn harvest.

Over the next few weeks, we will harvest approximately 1,100 acres of corn babies. (Well, I suppose they’re corn adults at this point. *Sniff* They grow up so fast.) This will involve DM spending countless hours in the tractor building monstrous piles of corn covered with tires and plastic and seeing a whole lot of this:

Unlike some farm wives, I don’t get very involved in the process. I work an 8-5 job wearing pencil skirts and stilettos and haven’t the foggiest idea how to operate farm machinery (for good reason). I’m currently planning EIGHT work events for this fall and stress-eating peanut M&Ms like it’s my job. My role on the dairy is to support, ensure DM is eating something every day, and keep myself entertained. Because, really. Can you see me driving a tractor?

I do not have the farming wardrobe figured out.

For all of the craziness these next few weeks will bring, I don’t want to miss the excitement, the progress, or the beauty of this time of year.

Corn harvest may signify dinners alone, an inconceivably exhausted DM, and a depressed Jer sey the pup, but it’s also the culmination of so much hard work.

Despite a weird, wet spring, our corn was planted with intention and care. Dairy Man spent half his life checking pivots and making sure the babies were getting enough water. The leafy green stuff has survived dry weeks, wet weeks, and gale-force winds.

It feels good to be this close to the finish line. Corn harvest represents time well spent. It promises that our bovine ladies will have plenty of food over the next year. It also gives me large hills to scurry around on like a mountain goat.

It’s the little things when you’re a country bumpkin.

My biggest compliant is that I will lose the blossoming privacy screens surrounding our house. Things always feel a little forlorn when the corn comes down.

But for now, I will savor these final days of summer. I’ll soak in quality time with DM. I’ll take quiet moments to sit in the grass and let the rustling whisper of the stalks speak to my soul.

Just a few more days, my pretties.