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.

Family

10 Things I Learned In August + 3 Year Anniversary

08/28/201309/12/2013by Modern Farm Wife8 Comments

Today marks day #730 of my installation as a modern farm wife, aka my three-year wedding anniversary. It’s hard to believe it’s already been three years since that sultry day the Dairy Man and I said “I do.”

But I love that man more with each day. Despite all of the harvesting, late nights, life lessons, and manure, he always makes me laugh. I feel blessed to spend my life with him … and several hundred cows. Happy anniversary, Dairy Man!

Now that we’ve gotten the obligatory mush out of the way, let’s reflect on August. Which is almost over, by the way. HOW did this happen!? Apparently time flies when you’re building a barn and turning 27.

Anyway. On to the things I learned this month.

10 Things I Learned in August

1. Dogs can get bronchitis.
Who knew? While Dairy Man and I were cavorting around Utah, Jersey the dog was spending his vacation at Whiskers Resort and Pet Spa. Snazzy. But apparently it was also full of some high-end germs. The pup got bronchitis. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

2. Utah is one of the most beautiful states I’ve ever seen.
This month Dairy Man and I took our longest vacation since our honeymoon three years ago. Destination? Salt Lake City, Utah to visit some friends. The mountains were gorgeous and I got to check #4 and #10 off my 30 before 30 list.

3. In N’ Out Burger is everything the world made it out to be.
California isn’t the only state with these burger meccas. Utah boasts several In N’ Out joints and DM and I got our first taste on vacation. My taste buds rejoiced.

4. I still don’t understand demolition derbies. Or mullets.
August is the month of our local county fair. While I quite enjoy eating a 2 lb. elephant ear for dinner and ogling at cute baby goats, I still feel like a fish out of water at a demolition derby. So much exhaust. So many mullets. Ah, the cultural opportunities presented in a small town.

5. Border Collie playdates are the best kind.
The J-pups recently had a play rendezvous with another puppy named Boots. They wrestled, frolicked, chased frisbees, and enjoyed having the same level of energy. It was exhausting. And fun fact: Boots (foreground) is 10 months old; Jersey is two years. Apparently we have a very petite BC.

6. The Great Salt Lake smells like death.
I’ve never smelt the Dead Sea, but if it’s anything like the Great Salt Lake, I understand the name. The Great Salt Lake smells like death and dead things. Due to wildly fluctuating water levels and pollution, the lake has a terrible stench caused by the decay of insects and other wildlife during times of low water. But if you plugged your nose, it was at least a little pretty.

7. Wood paneling might be back in style. Tell that to my old farmhouse.
No matter what West Elm might be selling, I stand by my decision to paint every inch of the wood paneling in our old house.

8. When it comes to manure pits, size does matter.
Why have three small pits when you can have one pit that can store five million gallons of manure? We’re nearing completion on the dairy’s new manure pit this month and DM couldn’t be more excited.

9. I’m horrified that floral pants don’t seem to be going away.

10. Air conditioning is vital to life on a dairy.
Why? Because if your air conditioner breaks—thus forcing you to open all of the windows in the house—and a manure tanker drives up and down your driveway all day, your house WILL smell exactly like a manure pit. It’s going to take a while to get that smell out of the throw pillows.

Family

The Shiny New Barn

08/08/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife13 Comments

After months of planning, building, and anxious mooing, our shiny new barn is finally complete. I’m sure the Dairy Man would love to take a moment to bask, but he’s already moved on to other projects.

Oof. Just a little manure pit. Things never slow down around here.

But, back to the beauteous barn. As you know, Dairy Man decided to expand one of our barns this spring in order to grow our herd and give the current bovines a little more room to spread out.

Here’s where we started: two pretty white barns on a grassy hill (our parlor is on the far left).

In order to build an expansion, we had to first raise up the ground. This required sand. Lots and lots of sand.

I quite enjoyed the sand. Unfortunately the Dairy Man shot down my idea to turn the area into a beach volleyball court complete with tiki torches and frozen daiquiri bar. Apparently making space for more cows trumps my desire for summer beach parties.

But Jersey agreed with me. He loved the sand. It was like an episode of doggy Baywatch.

After the sand was laid and the ground was even, the posts went up.

These random sticks pointing in the air were like a dairy farm version of Stonehenge. Without the burial mounds and Druid undertones.

Then it was time for rafters and a roof made out of steel.

Once the outside structure was complete, it was time to trick out our barn. Or “pimp my barn.” We’re still waiting to hear from MTV about the TV rights.

A few notable elements inside the barn:

Grooved concrete floor.
A grooved floor helps give the ladies traction as they roam around the barn. Without grooves, the floor would be a skating rink of slippery cow poo. Delightful. DM told me to take a good look at the floor, because it will never, EVER be this clean again. (Also, these are the wrong shoes to check out barn construction. In case you were wondering.)

Big fans and sprinklers.
Cows hate to be hot and bothered. In order to keep the ladies cool, the new barn has huge fans and a sprinkler system. Thanks to several weeks of 90-degree weather in July, the fans and sprinklers have been getting a serious workout.

Water tanks.
The new barn has two large blue water troughs. In the summer, the cows spend a lot of around them, an area I’ve dubbed the “water cooler,” to catch up on the latest gossip.

Freestalls to give the ladies their space.
All of our barns are freestall barns. This means that the cows are free to roam around and have access to comfy sand beds/stalls. The stalls are spaced four feet apart to give even the biggest-boned bovine plenty of personal space.

So. Those are the thrilling aspects that make up a barn. DM is so proud that I can recognize the glory of grooved concrete.

I was lucky enough to be in the barn when DM released the girls into it for the first time. I’m not a cow whisperer, but I could tell the cows were excited. I suspect they had been conversing longingly about the cozy new sand beds and waterfront views of the pond.

This event also finally gave me the chance to test an age-old dairy theory: that cows are just as excited about going into a new barn as they are about going into pasture. I’ll admit I was skeptical. I’ve witnessed our dry cows (pregnant ladies) go into pasture for the first time in the spring multiple times. It’s one of my favorite parts about living on a dairy. Why? Because it’s like a very rotund and jubilant running of the bulls. For a few minutes, the ladies forget they are mature mother cows and leap, frolic, and roll in the pasture like calves.

Would cows really be as excited about freestalls as they are about fresh pasture grass?

My camera and I were ready to find out. DM opened the gate between the old barn and new barn and after a few tentative steps, we had a stampede on our hands!

Ok, maybe “stampede” is a bit of an exaggeration, but it was joyful.

I even caught one of the girls rolling in the new sand bed like a wet puppy at a beach. Not a typical look for a 1,500 lb. animal.

In a matter of minutes, every single cow was packed into the new barn. Except for this loner. She was soaking in the sudden privacy in the old barn.

The bovine ladies are loving it. And yes, new barns are just as exciting as green pastures.

Family

10 Things I Learned in July

08/01/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife6 Comments

I’m going to start putting a nice bow on each month by filling you in on the things I’ve learned. Sometimes it will be educational, sometimes I’ll just send you to awesome links on BuzzFeed (like the 21 most awkward moments in handshake history – you’re welcome). Either way, it will be proverbial goulash of random things each month. Yum.

So let’s get started. Here, in no particular order, are:

10 Things I Learned in July

1. I am addicted to caramelizing onions.
I’m of the firm believer that everything, from salads to burgers, can be improved greatly by caramelized onions. It’s a sickness. But how can I NOT caramelize a red onion in red wine and add it to my burger with basil aioli and herbed goat cheese? Seriously.

2. This is what happens when 318 Corgis throw a beach party. You might die from the cuteness.

3. Rain is a good thing.
Most of July was marked by endless blue skies, hot temps, and blazing sunlight. Awesome, right? Wrong. While my city girl side would be perfectly happy with nothing but sunbathing weather for 12 months out of the year, our corn begs to differ. That’s why when the skies opened up last week and things got wet and gray, I said a thankful prayer. The thirsty corn was so happy.

4. Photobooth props make a person (even more) good-looking.
Need I say more?

5. Cows love fresh sand.
This summer, we expanded one of our barns. In July, the barn was finally ready and Dairy Man opened up the new space to our cows. Several of the ladies immediately began jubilantly rolling in the new sand. I’ve never seen a 1,500 lb. animal behave like a dog at the beach (legs in the air and everything), but there’s a first time for everything in this farm life.

6. Since discovering Jergens Natural Glow Revitalizing Daily Moisturizer, I have lost all motivation to get a real tan.
Why roast outside for an hour (something I rarely have time for) when this magical little potion can turn me a color I could never achieve naturally? Plus I’m starting to get depressed about my crow’s feet.

7. Even dogs respond to peer pressure.
No amount of bribery, pleading, or general coercion could get Jersey in the lake last year. That dog hates water. But this summer, Dairy Man’s sister got a golden retriever who loves it. For a while, Jersey watched Maggie splash around, getting all of the attention, playing with a Frisbee he desperately wanted. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Whether it was the Frisbee or doggy peer pressure, J-pups finally sloshed in. So proud.

8. I do not thrive in chaos.
We installed 1,400 square feet of new flooring in our house this month. That meant clearing out our ENTIRE main floor, moving big appliances to the garage (like my stove, washer, and dryer), and camping in the basement. For nearly two weeks I couldn’t cook dinner, wash clothes, or find anything. I felt like a woman without a country. There was a lot of aimless wandering and whining “Do you know where we put ___?” Things didn’t feel normal again until our mattress was off the floor.

9. Nearly 100 degree temps make me want to die.
I’m a complete wuss when it comes to the heat. DM tells me that working in an air-conditioned office makes me weak, but I think Michigan humans are just not meant to survive when the thermometer jumps above 90. The cows agree with me.

10. A cowhide rug is the perfect place to hide a border collie.

So, what did you learn in July?

Family

Checking In: 30 Before 30

07/30/201307/30/2013by Modern Farm Wife11 Comments

I turned 27 this month. This provoked a mild existential crisis (in which the voices in my head kept whispering, “Almost thirty… Almoooost thiiiiirty… Are those crooooow’s feeeeet by your eyyyyyes?“) that was only offset by the realization that Dairy Man would turn 28 in two weeks. If nothing else, I still have my older man. DM tests out every age for me before I arrive. Isn’t that nice of him?

27 seems like a good time to break the blog’s summer hiatus and check in on my “30 Things to Do Before I’m 30” list. I’ve made process in some areas, refused to skydive in others. There are things in life that terrify me (#12) that DON’T come with a chance of this:

Go home, plane, you’re drunk.

So, I haven’t skydived…dove. But I am ready to detail the remaining 15 items on the list (check out the first 15 here), and give you a sense of how the 30 are going. It’s all about accountability.

16. Say “I’m sorry” more than 50 percent of the time
I am stubborn, opinionated, and bask in being right. But as my parents taught me, marriage (and life) is not about being right. It’s about compromise, humility, and grace. I want the words “I’m sorry” to become less of a poisonous extraction and more of a gracious offering.

17. Talk to my grandparents each week via phone or email
I think I’ve gotten a little lazy on this one since both of my grandmothers hopped on Facebook. That’s almost human interaction, right? But seriously. Over the course of my life, I’ve been lucky enough to know all four of my grandparents. They were at every play, choir concert, and birthday throughout my childhood. I want to make it a priority to stay in touch with my three remaining g-rents. It’s good for the soul. Plus, there’s usually some delicious lasagna or homemade frosting involved.

18. Drink a $50-100 bottle of wine (and see if I can tell the difference)
DM and I love a good glass of dry, oaky red wine. But our definition of “good” wine is typically around $15. We’re not the Rockafellers, people. I’ve always wanted to try an expensive bottle of wine to see if my tastes are as refined as I think they are.

19. Complete family photo yearbooks for 2010, 2011, and 2012
I’m already 2/3 of the way through with this one. Like many people, I have approximately a bazillion photos just sitting on my computer. So I decided to create annual family photo yearbooks on Shutterfly to preserve the memories. Plus, it’s nice to have something on the coffee table besides dairy magazines.

20. Purchase coffee for a stranger behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru
Once I was driving through Starbucks in need of a grande dirty chai. When I got up to the window, the girl wearing the headset said, “You don’t owe anything. The lady before you took care of it.” I was flabbergasted. I’ve always wanted to pay forward the kindness. Because, really, the best way to show your humanity is through caffeinated beverages.

21. Create something with my Instagram photos
Since getting my iPhone in the summer of 2012, I have documented our life on the farm with hundreds of Instagram photos. It’s well and good to have these photos living on my phone, but I want to do something with them. I’m thinking a poster for the basement.

22. Upgrade to a DSLR camera
I barely even know what this means, but I do know that iPhone photos just don’t cut it in the blogging world. I want to learn how to use a fancy camera and take photos of our dairy and Jersey the dog to the next level.

23. Teach Jersey a new trick
I might be biased, but, um, my dog is the smartest dog in the world. Now that he’s two years old, he has increased capacity to do awesome things. I recently taught him how to high-five, but I think “stick ’em up” might be next.

24. Spend an entire weekend unplugged
Dairy Man and I got into a scuffle over this one. While I think the idea of a of weekend free of laptops, iPads, and cell phones sounds relaxing and cleansing, all he could say is “No way! What if my employees need me!?” The man can’t fathom ever being away from his phone. So my plan is to combine this one with #10 and actually force him to leave the U.S. sometime in the next three years. Because not even a dairy man wants to pay $20 a minute to chat with his employees from a Caribbean beach.

25. Refurbish an old piece of furniture
I bought an old mid-century dresser for $60 from a thrift store in 2011. It has great bones but needs a lot of love. This is the year that I’m finally going to USE one of those 43,563 furniture painting tutorials on Pinterest and stop telling people who enter my dining room, “Don’t mind that ugly credenza; I need to refinish it.”

26. Make a list of birthdays and addresses and send cards
My friends can count on fun-filled birthday texts or FB messages, but there’s nothing like snail mail. I want to start sending physical cards. With handwritten notes. Maybe this will help me check off #1.

27. Pay off our student loans
Dairy Man and I finished college almost five years ago and are so close to paying off our loans that I can taste it. Between now and 30, we will pay off every last cent and say “sayonara!” to loan payments. Dave Ramsey would be so proud.

28. Find an active outdoor activity DM and I can do together
Two things that Dairy Man and I need more of (in my opinion) is quality time and exercise. I want to kill two birds with one stone and find an outdoor activity we both love. Are we hikers? Bikers? Runners? Vine swingers? Tennis players? Parkour-ers? Only time will tell.

29. Have a baby
DM and I have always known that we want a family. By the time I’m 30, I want to have at least one heir to the dairy throne around the house. If nothing else, we could use some more farmhands.

30. Write a letter to myself to be opened on my 30th birthday
I’d better get cracking on this one. If the past 27 years are any indication, a LOT can happen in three years. I want to make sure I don’t forget where I’ve been.

So, how’s the whole list going? Let’s check in.

Send 25 handwritten notes
~~Drink a large glass of water before every meal~~ We do this faithfully
Read at least one book every two months
~~Visit our friends in Salt Lake City~~ This hasn’t actually happened yet, but DM and I purchased plane tickets and will be jetting out to SLC in August!
Milk a cow
Take a girls trip to Vegas
Try ten new restaurants in West Michigan
Have at least one official date night a month
~~Host a dinner party~~ After reading this book, I really had no choice. My dining room table hosted an excellent dinner party for 10 of my girlfriends
~~Go on an actual vacation with DM~~ Will be accomplished the same time as #4
See a show at Second City in Chicago
Do something that absolutely terrifies me
Go to five plays or musicals
~~Run the Fifth Third Riverbank 5K~~ I donned stylish running tights and blazed through this race on May 11, 2013. 29:30 wasn’t a bad time for someone who didn’t train one iota!
Spend a day with each sibling doing something they choose, paid for by me
Say “I’m sorry” more than 50 percent of the time
Talk to my grandparents each week via phone or email
Drink a $50-100 bottle of wine (and see if I can tell the difference)
Complete family photo yearbooks for 2010, ~~2011, and 2012~~ Two books down, one to go
Purchase coffee for a stranger behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru
Create something with my Instagram photos
Upgrade to a DSLR camera
~~Teach Jersey a new trick~~ I taught him how to high-five, but as mentioned, I have plans for other tricks
Spend an entire weekend unplugged
Refurbish an old piece of furniture
Make a list of birthdays and addresses and send cards
Pay off our student loans
Find an active outdoor activity DM and I can do together
Have a baby
Write a letter to myself to be opened on my 30th birthday

Yikes. There’s a lot to do between 27 and 30! Some will be easy (buying coffee for a stranger) and others will be challenging (like trying to find time for date nights during corn harvest), but I’m looking forward to checking things off the list.

With a handsome fella like this at my side, how could I fail?

Family

Confessions of a Former Agoraphobic

06/19/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife8 Comments

Believe it or not, I haven’t always found the country beautiful.

The wide open spaces of this place used to make me feel twinges of agoraphobia (the opposite of claustrophobic). I feared the wide open spaces.

I still remember my first few drives out to Smalltown to visit the Dairy Man when we were dating. I would feel twinges of panic as sidewalks and Starbucks were replaced by cornfields and endless country roads. The openness crushed me. I felt unmoored and lost. While DM marveled at a beautiful starry sky, I couldn’t stop looking around for streetlights.

It was like being on an alien planet a million miles from earth. But instead of extraterrestrial life, I was surrounded by cows and F-150s.

I desperately missed the city. I felt most at home when surrounded by tall buildings, a crush of humanity, and the perpetual cacophony of traffic. I preferred my experiences with nature to be within walking distance of a tapas restaurant or the John Hancock Center.

I’m still getting used to life out in the boonies. The difference three years makes, however, is that I’m starting to see the beauty.

We had a brief thunderstorm this week. After the noise (including the incessant whining of one very high-strung border collie) died down and the rain puttered out, I took a look out our front window and my breath caught in my throat.

Let’s face it, people. Skies like this don’t happen very often between apartment buildings.

I finally appreciate the beauty of this rural wilderness. Here, I can be quiet, deliberate, and still. With skies this big, it’s impossible not to feel closer to heaven.

I miss the bustle of the urban jungle, but this country is home.

Family

Building a Cow Barn

05/31/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife7 Comments

If you follow MFW on Facebook (hint, hint), you’ve probably noticed that we are currently in the process of expanding one of our barns.

As that pesky Dairy Man keeps saying: if you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backward. He’s constantly trying to grow the dairy, create efficiencies, or find a new way to till a field. It’s all about forward motion.

So it makes sense that we’re building a barn. Over the next few months, our bovine ladies will gain a bunch of new mooing friends thanks to the extra space.

We’ll talk about the intricacies of this shiny new facility soon, but for today I wanted to bring you up to speed.

When I get home from work each day, I drive up the hill to check out the barn progress. Over the weeks, I’ve amassed quite a collection of iPhone photos taken from the safety of my Jeep (I don’t want to get my shoes dirty, after all) or while wearing boots and walking Jersey the dog.

I’m sure you are dying to know about things like concrete flooring, water tanks, and big fans, but for now, enjoy this photo retrospective of a few weeks in barn building:

I never could have predicted that I’d be so enamored with a barn, but this is my life now. I can’t wait to fill the new digs with cows and watch the dairy grow.

Jersey the dog, however, will be very sad to lose the beach…

Family

When A City Slicker Writes a Dairy Blog

05/15/201302/11/2016by Modern Farm Wife29 Comments

Sometimes I feel like a terrible blogger. And a terrible dairy blogger. And a terrible dairy wife.

I started this blog as a coping mechanism to grapple with the realities of dairy life—a life I knew nothing about before meeting my handsome Dairy Man.

But somewhere along the line, I became perceived as a dairy “expert.” Inexplicable.

As we all remember, I did not grow up on (or even near) a farm. I spent my formative years in a suburban land of city water, sidewalks, and neighborhood parks.

The closest I ever came to agriculture was Teusink’s Pony Farm. It was basically just a petting zoo with horse rides. Though I was surrounded by ducks, bunnies, and goats, I could hear honking car horns. I was within walking distance of ice cream. I could place one foot on the farm and the other in the asphalt parking lot of a nearby church.

Teusink’s did not prepare me for farm life.

I didn’t experience true rural isolation until I moved to our old white house on the dairy. I didn’t experience the reality of farming until I was painting our laundry room by myself or trying to keep a barrage of black flies at bay.

I’m getting used to it.

The longer I live this dairy life, the more assimilated I become. It makes sense to use my writing to explain dairy processes and farming practice. In some circles I am the dairy expert. Mom is so proud.

But sometimes the very nature of this blog can feel disingenuous. I’m not a farmer. I don’t work on our dairy. I admittedly avoid getting my shoes dirty at all costs. I’m an overdressed transplant who happened to marry a man who is passionate about cows and corn.

Everything I know about farming comes from the DM. Some parts are interesting. Some parts are traumatizing. And other parts are downright dull.

I don’t think I will ever care about milking shells the way Dairy Man does. And I’m ok with that.

Yes, people, we’re getting real. I am breaking the fourth wall.

As I compose content for this blog, I’ve searched for balance between life and dairy. I love to write, but I worry about losing the newness, the confusion. The longer I live in this country place, the fewer opportunities I have for farm “firsts.”

Over time, the abnormal becomes normal. The new becomes mundane. The smells become commonplace.

As this natural process ebbs on, I can’t help but worry. What if I lose my incredulity? What if this dairy life becomes like an old shoe—comfortable, worn, and unsurprising?

My type A personality is prone to such compulsion. But I think my farming exodus, like life, requires a step back.

Sometimes the bud of a flower, the smile of a friend, the delicate fragrance of manure is all it takes to see the world with new eyes.

Familiarity is the enemy of inspiration. But often life’s most profound moments are found in the shabby or ordinary places. Sometimes it takes only the slightest shake of a butterfly’s wings to bring us straight to the feet of glory.

I’ve learned so much about farm life, but there is much more to explore. I continue to experience routine and newness. There’s something profound about both.

It’s profound when the fiery pink/orange sun sets in the orchard across the street. It’s profound when my husband—weary, frazzled, and spattered with dirt—attentively looks into my eyes to say “I love you.” It’s profound when I drive a quarter mile into an isolated field to bring the DM some dinner and spend a few minutes reconnecting.

This life is not extraordinary. We wake up and beat the pavement (or the dirt) just like everyone else. But each day is a gift and I am grateful.

Other dairies are bigger. Other people are smarter. Other houses are cleaner. Other cows have higher milk production. But none of this matters when I look at the beauty of the life I’m blessed to live.

There’s nothing mundane about the love I feel for that man; there’s nothing dull about the passion he feels for his demanding profession; there’s nothing ordinary about our dependence on a powerful God.

This farm life is more absurd than I ever could have known. I’ve lived through planting, harvesting, cow jailbreaks, and barn building. I’ve gone to bed alone. I’ve eaten a delicious steak from a steer who lived up the hill from my kitchen. I’ve driven Subway into fields and waited, waited, waited.

I worry about running out of things to say, but I’ve recently realized that every life (whether full of cows, taxi cabs, or diapers) is seeped in richness. Ours is no different. It’s my goal to remember this—to delight in new knowledge and turn old experiences on their side.

A good dairy blog written by a prissy city girl should be equal parts cow and contemplation. And that’s what I strive to do. As I share the oddities of dairy life from an “expert” perspective, I will also stay true to the pencil-skirt-wearing immigrant behind the veil.

I will never stop learning. I will never stop growing. And I will never stop being thankful that I get to live this life. (If nothing else, for the material!)

Thanks for coming along.