MY BOSS IS AN ANIMAL

    Our day usually begins before the sun comes up.  If we don’t beat the sunrise, Randy thinks we have wasted the morning.  Most of the time this arrangement works out for me; I can only stay in bed so long knowing that there is coffee waiting downstairs.  My children gave us this phenomenal coffee maker that is programmable, grinds and brews automatically (if only it brought a cup upstairs it would be perfect!)  Once I hear the grinder, I start getting eager to get out of bed to enjoy a hot cup of coffee; far superior to that of any alarm clock I have owned.  I will admit, sometimes I hear the grinder and with a big smile on my face I roll over and drift off until I hear the rumbling of logs, clanking of dog dishes and the thumping of dog tails.  Once the dogs are up, we are all up.  They have needs just like the rest of the family.  Besides the obvious, they must get to their morning inspection of the property.  You can never be too safe and they like to report to us if there are any uninvited cats, raccoons or deer that might be lingering around in the timber or orchard.  One thing we can be sure of and is that no guest will go unannounced on their watch.  The neighbors feeding their cows and horses or simply driving down the road are more intrusive than to the dogs liking.  We have several conversations with the dogs in regards to property lines, ownership and neighborly manners; they continue to appear apathetic to our conversations and not only guard our property but the property across the road.  After much observation, I have decided that if it is within eye shot of the dog, it is automatically theirs.

    Eating and drinking fresh, cold water is a high priority for the dogs.  It is more important than anything that could seem to be a priority to us; they can make your life miserable until that job is accomplished, preferably accompanied by a smile, some tender words and a nice pat on the head;  not unlike  some other bosses I have had.   If we consider having a cup of coffee before we tend to their needs; they can stare you down like no boss I have ever had.  Not a word, just a look of disgust and repugnance; you can almost hear them say, “You know what you should be doing right now and I can’t believe I am watching you sit here and drink your coffee when you are on my clock.”  You know what they are thinking by “the look.”  It is much easier to complete our job of feeding the dogs before we consider taking a breakfast break for ourselves.  I will say that they usually show their appreciation with a big doggy smile and the wag of their tails.  But once we are out of sight, they not only forget about us, but they think we are dead.  Think of their shock when they see us again.

    Of course there is Crispy the cat, who like the dogs, truly believes he is the boss of us.  We are here to see that all his needs are met and to run interference for him with the dogs.  On nice days he enjoys a little outside time and it is our job to see that he can get to the door free of any intrusion from the dogs.  He has a friend who calls to him from outside and they enjoy playing together.  Of course the black outdoor cat is younger and friskier and can climb tall buildings, post, trees without hesitation.  He taunts our boss, Crispy, to come along and play.  He does with great exuberance and fur flying, forgetting his mature years; then it is Randy’s job to get the ladder and get him down without embarrassing the boss in him.  Crispy has a meow that can penetrate through the wind and door to call us to attention.  Randy like any good employee drops whatever he is doing and liberates him from wherever he has found himself entrapped.  Crispy likes to stand on the steps and meow orders at us, which precludes anything we are doing at the time.  He is a hand on hip kind of boss… standing on the highest point, looking down on his workers, as he meows out orders.  We try never to disappoint him but he rarely shows any appreciation. Occasionally he will offer up the opportunity to give him a rub or a scratch but more often he gives us looks of disgust that he is not our only boss and that we sought other jobs.

    Once the dogs and cat are in order, the horses and cows are next.  When we arrive at the gate the first order of business is to account for the horses.  Depending on their mood they are sometimes waiting for us at the gate, tapping their hoofs and then fixating their eyes on the feed trough and then back on us; as though we were bad employees who had arrived late for work.  Before we can explain that we had been working and that we had other bosses to keep happy, off they go in a pout, kicking up their heels and trotting off to give us the cold shoulder treatment.  They think we want to be best friends with them, but they should know by now, we are just there to do our job, if they don’t want to be our friends, we are not going to beg them, besides we have our own friends and most of them have only two legs and rarely feed from our trough, well not on a regular basis.  Other times they remain hidden in the trees trying to act like it is  because we were late and now they are too busy to take time out of their busy schedule to acknowledge our presence; as if to say, “we are taking care of all this ourselves, there is of plenty grass and hedge balls right here for us to eat, you can go back home, you are not needed here.”  Of course being the good, compliant employees that we strive to be, we abhor days that they act like we are not important players on the farm team.  Sometimes we have to give them an oh so gentle reminder who it is that purchases  the “special oats” and snacks that they enjoy as appetizers and allows them to change up in their main entree.  How quickly they forget that it was their employee that picked out the nail that was embedded in the hoof and the one that applied antibiotics to it so it would heal quickly. Who was that person who sprayed them down so those bothersome flies would stop sucking their blood?   They are nothing above thankless.  They forget the way their employee brought a bucket of feed with molasses to help make the medicine go down more easily.  I guess when the day ends, the hoof is healed and they are winning races between the other horses, they forget about their lowly human employee who helped to make it all possible.  They forget that they didn’t do it all by themselves.   Oh well, that is why we are the employee, to do all those things that the boss doesn’t want  or can’t do themselves and so they can tend to their other, more important task  like grazing, pooping, strolling to the pond and taking on occasional roll in the grass.  Every once in a while when there is no one around to do the job, they kick a bucket or two around and try to get to fill them with oats, otherwise they typically leave the work to their human employees.

    Moving right down the list of chores, off we go to see the board of directors, if truth be told, they are the ones that actually pay our salaries.  Oddly enough they are also the ones that always seem to be the happiest to see us.  I am of course speaking of the cows and the bull.  Randy is their favorite employee, they know that I am still in training and not sure that I am worthy of their admiration and trust.  They know that Randy goes out of his way to bring them a bag of tasty morsels that they share between them and he always makes sure they have a beverage for their herd’s gathering.  The board knows that Randy has been known to go over and above his job description on several occasions and he treats their children as one of his own by occasionally taking them home for an overnight by a warm fire when a member of the board was under the weather and unable to tend to its responsibilities.  They seem to appreciate the fact that he, unconditionally looks out for the entire board of directors, rarely showing favorites; however; like any boss the board is not going to show their entire hand.  During the morning meeting they like to push and shove a bit to show Randy who the boss is of the group.  Some are more seasoned bosses than others and they openly acknowledge that he is an important and valued employee; some will go so far as to give him a kiss on the cheek to show their appreciation.  It is of course a relationship like few bosses have with their employees.  Randy has assisted in the birth of many of their children.  In fact, with this group of bosses, Randy has put his hands  and arms in places that most of us have only threatened to put our feet with some of our bosses; understandably, you would have to trust this kind of employee. 

    At the end of the day when all is said and done, all the bosses go to bed happy, with full stomachs and most have forgotten who it was that helped them have such a great day.  (Out of sight out of mind.)  It is fortunate that we don’t work for accolades and that a good day’s work and a feeling of accomplishment is an amazing compensation.  To go home at the end of the day and know that you have done the best possible job and that someone’s life is better because of your contribution is what makes a person’s character grow and their spirit soar.  Just like yesterday and all the days prior; tomorrow the sun will rise, the coffee will brew and we will be greeted by our bosses, tails wagging, lips meowing, hooves clattering and the board of directors will come charging over the hill to show their appreciation.

     Sorry if you were expecting a “tell all” account of some of my former bosses.   I could tell some pretty good stories given some of the colorful characters I have had as bosses and managers, this isn't it. I hope you have enjoyed getting to know my new bosses and now you know better why

Boss Horse Haylee, conducting quality control studies with her employees

I Love the Farm

And

I Love You Randy

SWIMMING WITH FROGS

    The picture of the Frog that I used on my last blog made me start thinking about last summer, frogs, ponds and heat.  When we were on the farm yesterday, Randy starting making a verbal list of all the things he needed to do once the temperature returns to 50 degrees.  With the weather being so frigid the thoughts of summer and 50 degrees are comforting.  Knowing that there will be no need to chop ice, feed hay, rescue new calves from snow filled gullies or repair ice coated objects makes me feel like a child anticipating summer vacation.  These thoughts of summer reminded me of one very hot day last summer. With the weather being bitterly cold I thought this would be a marvelous time to share a summer story.  Hopefully you will be able to get a short reprieve from this frosty weather as I attempt to transport you to that summer day.

During the time when we spent five days in St. Louis and traveled five hours to the farm for a day and a half.  We did this every week for nearly nine months.  We had to pack a lot into our day while at the farm trying to catch up on chores.  There was really never enough time so we always worked as long and hard as we could before returning to the city.  This particular day was one of the hottest days of the summer.  Randy had decided that the weeds had taken over his electric fences and the thistles were out of control and something had to be done before we returned to the city.  We usually stuck together but this day we decided to accomplish our list Randy would cut weeds along the fence rows and I would get on the 4-wheeler and spray the ominous thistle and miscellaneous menacing weeds.  My mantra was “Clover is Good – Thistles are Bad.”  After a well prepared briefing on the operation of the 4-wheeler, with the sprayer tank on the vehicle and the wand in my hand I was off to war with the displaced plants that unwisely rooted themselves in the wrong “dog gone” pasture.  

    It was an excessively hot day.  I wore just enough clothes to not embarrass myself , the cows or horses and relished in every little breeze that crossed my back or face.  The fun part of the job was over in a couple of hours.  Randy’s face was bright red and the fence rows were less than half done.  We took a break and enjoyed a picnic lunch under the trees hoping to cool off a bit.  Since there was no breeze there was nothing cool about the picnic except it was under trees that shaded it from the sun beating directly on our heads.  It was good to re-hydrate and refuel so we could complete our appointed jobs.  I had to remind myself what I was spraying wasn't just water and to avoid physical contact but the mist that occasionally drifted my way, in an odd way, brought relief.  As an aside, to date, I have no thistles growing on my body so it must work.

    The heat never gave up and neither did we.  As the afternoon was creeping by Randy and I found ourselves on a log, sipping water when he announced. “WE NEED A SWIM.”  I am looking around and see no pool but a nice refreshing pond.  I have taken many a dip in ponds and lakes, that wasn’t a big deal.  It had  been several years ago, but I was game.  After overcoming the lack of a swim suit matter, Randy assured me that the cows wouldn’t tell and nothing but a crow was in eye shot of the pond.  We were both hot, at this point, who cared.  He had his clothes off and headed to the pond while I was still wrapping my head around what I was about to do.  I was a bit more methodical about the process than Randy.  I laid my clothes a safe distance from the water so they  could dry out from the perspiration and yet not fall into the pond.  I put my sandals a bit closer so I would have shoes to walk to my clothes.  I took a deep breath and off I went. Randy continued to stand in the water with an inviting hand extended to assist entry into the refreshing pool of water.  I know you must have visions of me, adoringly, with an ear to ear smile on my face, running toward Randy’s extended hand and into the water looking like Bo Derek, only without the corn rows of course.  Well, the picture was more like an Abbott and Costello routine, “Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch.”  With another deep breath and a lot of positive self talk, I entered the pond.  As I began the entrance I remember saying, “Ahhh, this isn’t too bad, except, I am sinking.”  The bottom of the pond is not sand and there is no sandy beach; it is mud, deep mud, and slimy…very, very slimy mud. Walking was not easy because the mud was oozing up between my toes and I was sinking faster than I could walk. During this process Randy and I were having a long overdue and mistimed conversation about who lives in this particular pond.  He mentioned turtles... snapping turtles, frogs and perhaps a snake or two…Randy assured me that the creatures were more afraid of us than we were of them.  My eyes were busy trying to assess our surroundings and be on the lookout for anything that remotely resembled a snake or a turtle.  Frogs didn’t bother me but I didn’t want to be surprised by a snake nor did I want my toes nibbled on by a turtle.  Seeing where as we were skinny dipping, I wanted to be informed about anything that was swimming about my body. What Randy didn’t realize is I am the girl who, when she was young, sat hours in an “out house” because there was a spider above the door.  I was sure that it was watching me, just waiting for the moment that I walked under him so he could jump down and attack me.  Granted, I am no longer paranoid about spiders but what an unfortunate time to discover that I haven’t worked through my mistrust of reptiles.  As I was taking another deep breath to go deeper into the water and closer to Randy, while continuing to sink into the silt and mud, suddenly there was a squiggly, swirling object rushing under my foot.  I believe Randy would testify that Superman has NOTHING on me!  In a single bound I turned and leaped out of the pond making a sound that has never come from my body and impossible to replicate. Once on dry land I looked back and there was Randy calmly standing in the pond laughing hysterically saying something like “if only I had a video of that.” 

    Once my heart rate stabilized and my brain was once again oxygenated, I came to my senses and realized that it was most likely a tadpole that had darted beneath my feet.  I am fairly certain that Randy thought the swim was over.  There was no way that I was going to let a little tadpole get the best of me or stop me from enjoying this adventure with Randy.  I took a very deep breath, reminded myself that on a couple of occasions I actually paid for mud baths in Ojo Caliente, New Mexico and loved it.  Much to Randy’s astonishment,  I gathered my courage and my oxygen supply and successfully headed back to the pond, repeating to myself  “I have paid for mud baths and I loved them” over and over until I once again reached Randy.

    I will be honest and say that I didn’t do any actual swimming  and Randy does remember me being slightly clingy;  but I did return and we did stay in the water long enough to cool off and Randy was able to take a few strokes before we  strolled back, hand in hand, to the log where our clothes were secured, laughing endlessly about our relaxing dip in the frog pond. 

    This chapter of our lives has given us endless joy as we have shared and relived the moment that I went flying from the pool of water.  As I write this on a cold January night it makes me eager to feel the heat of the summer, working together, side by side, sharing picnics and going skinny dipping.  Am I afraid?  No not at all, I have a plan!  The next time I become frightened I will not leap out of the pond, I will leap into Randy’s arms, or on his back or perhaps sit on his head, as we sink quietly into the mud, together.

    Now you know more of why

I LOVE THE FARM

&

I LOVE YOU RANDY

©

DO YOU HEAR THAT?

    
 When I first moved from a more rural suburban area to the city, noise was welcomed and novel.  I had been widowed and lived away from neighbors for some time;  hearing people was a comforting acknowledgement that I was not alone in this world; an affirmation that I was among the living.  I became numb to the sundry of noises that reverberated through my home, car and body.  I could easily work in my yard and be oblivious to the sounds marching around me; they had become so familiar that they became white noise.

I lived near  highways and hospitals; there were the endless sirens of ambulances, fire trucks and police cars. Then of course there was the occasional gun shots heard in the distance.  You usually had no idea where they originated or what their target was but you could safely assume they were not hunters. The police car’s bright lights  in the middle of the night, changing from red to blue was distracting as they would light up the front of my house.  My dog, “Red ” would then be alerted that she should be on guard duty.  This happened periodically when the neighbor across the street, who always chose the middle of the night to have a psychiatric melt down, would get the police called on her by any number of sources.  Then there were the trains clanking as they connected; you couldn’t see or hear them during day but at night the sound carried from a mile away. Because I lived in the corner of a triangle of cities and on the edge of St. Louis I was in ear shot of several different scary, inaudible voices that roared  from emergency warning systems.  I could never understand what the voices were saying but because of the tone and usually the color of the sky, I knew it was something ominous and a fear- provoking sound.  On any day there were the horns honking for many reasons, but what I came to know as the “Southside Door Bell” was the most annoying.  This is when my neighbor’s family would pull up in front of her house before 7AM and lay on the horn to announce that her ride to the garage sales had arrived.  Of course there were the cars that you heard or felt their music several blocks before they actually could be seen.  Helicopters are popular in the city; they use them to air lift patients, for traffic reports, news reports and of course the police department used them to chase people down who may be running through a neighborhood.  The helicopters took on an entirely different nuance than the “Whirly Birds”  that I loved to watch on television in my youth.  In fact, the sound of the blades chopping through the sky became unsettling as I was sure there would be a great chance that a sad announcement would follow. All this in a desirable, "quiet" suburban neighborhood on the edge of the city. 

After years of living in the same area, hearing the same noises that had become part of me,  something suddenly happened that changed what I heard.  Slowly, an undisturbed night’s sleep was a rarity, sounds that  had been oblivious to me were becoming annoying and I more readily identified them as noise.  Red even appeared to be more irritated by the sights and sounds of the city.  What started this progression of change?  One short visit to the farm last January started this ball rolling.

My first visit to the farm was unplanned and a whirl wind.  Randy was in St. Louis visiting and had proposed.  The day he was returning to the farm, just as he was walking out the door, I received news that my mother in Kansas City was having a health crisis with an unknown outcome.  Without a moment’s hesitation Randy insisted that I pack up and go with him to be with my mother.  I tossed things in the car and off we went.  The five hour road trip was filled with phone calls back and forth to the hospital, nursing home and family.  My heart was racing from all the things that had happened in the last 48 hours.  Once my brain and body gets cranked up, it is hard to turn it down.  We arrived very late; my mother was stable and sleeping, so we went straight to the farm.  We stepped out of the car and the cold crisp January air hit me in the face and then he said, “Look up.”  It wasn’t the cold air that took my breath away, it was the silence and the star filled sky.  Not a sound , except the rocks that rolled under my feet as I walked to the center of the driveway to be in a clearing to get an even better view.  Randy noticed the stars, I noticed the silence, the lack of electric energy that was NOT whirling around me.  There was no high level buzz from transformers or street lights.  It was a peace like I had rarely experienced. 

That first night was so still I was sure I would never go to sleep, but instead, I experienced one of my best night’s sleep.  With every consecutive visit my body became more and more adjusted to the sounds of the country and the lack of  noise.   As we would pack up to head back to the city my body would start getting tense and anxious knowing that it was going to have to live with a lot of extra energy and sounds that didn’t exist on the farm.  By April we were in the city five days and the farm 2 days.  We kept this schedule through this past December with extra days at the farm thrown in here and there.  With every trip it became more obvious that our hearts belonged on the farm and so did our bodies. 

These are some of the sounds that I hear.  I have come to realize that they  are melodic, music to my ears and in perfect harmony with my body, even the truck growling down our gravel road is a reminder that we are not alone on this planet and that there are other farmers making their way through their daily chores.  The cracking of the wood in the stove, not only warms our home but our hearts.  There is something very comforting to hear wood crackle and pop as it's embers glow a reassuring red that tells us we are warm and safe.  When I walk outside the geese honking over head alerts us that the weather is changing and they are taking heed. They greet us with a hello and a good bye.  We can see them working together as they plow their path through the sky, taking turns breaking the wind for the other members of their flying team.  At night when we stand gazing and marveling at the moon and stars (one of our favorite things to do)  it is not uncommon to hear the voice of an owl or the songs of the coyotes.  Sometimes we hear the coyotes answering each other.  As we walk through the timber we hear the sticks breaking beneath our feet, the leaves rustle with each step; these sounds reminds us that we are leaving tracks and scents just like the deer, rabbits and  raccoons ahead of us.  Although these animals make very little noise,  when our dogs discover their scent, they make up for the silence of the wildlife.  When the wind blows in the country you can actually hear the melody that it plays as it weaves through the trees, limbs, leaves and buildings.  When we walk through the orchard we hear the fruit falling from the trees.  Occasionally,  it is as though someone is sitting in the tree and purposefully tossing us an apple or pear, ripened to perfection, just for our pleasure and in the perfect moment.   The trickling of the creek screams at the dogs to go swimming.  It really doesn’t matter how big the body of water is, the sound of the water running is soothing and it is an invitation to fun for the dogs, kids and big people too.  There is nothing that says summer night like the call of the bull frogs and locust.  Their voices swell and diminish in a wave that they all get on and ride from dusk to dawn. It can lull you to sleep and seems to be  synchronized with the lights of the fire flies. The occasional gun shots never alarms me.  Shooting guns in the country is more recreational than anything else and more times than not they are shooting at a can or a target rather than an animal.  The hoofs of the cows as they clatter down the hill towards Randy are like a love song.  They know and trust that he has come just for them, to bring them food, check their water supply or to rid them of pesky flies.  They are obviously comforted by his presence and the harmonious sound of running hoofs and mooing is validation of their gratitude.

The list of sounds could go on and on and I know I have left out some of my favorites. I hear and learn about new sounds daily.  The point was not to make a list but to help you hear some of the sounds that called me to be a full time farmer’s wife.  These are some of the sounds that sooth my soul, lowers my blood pressure and creates a state of tranquility in my life that has been absent until now.  These are sounds that draw me into the stillness and create a longing for more stillness.  These sounds create a gap between sounds that allows me to think about bigger, greater things, to hear answers to prayers and sometimes to not have to think at all. 

Now can you understand more clearly why

I LOVE THE FARM

&

I LOVE YOU RANDY

THE HEART OF THE FARM

     Some of the most familiar phrases heard in our house these days are, “have you seen…?”  “Where did you put…?”  “Where do you want this…?” It could be the opener for many a dispute, but so far we have by-passed any misunderstandings in regards to combining and rearranging. The amazing thing is when we get tired of unpacking or rearranging there is plenty of space to take a walk.

     I have found that a good walk on the land is a great cure for momentary claustrophobia.  A stroll around the property gives us a perfect opportunity to investigate the newly dug land mines that have been personally designed by our dogs.  We have no idea if they are on the hunt of wild animals, rodents, bugs or a simply digging a tunnel for the Orient Express; regardless; the holes are deep and many.  We have contemplated that if we could get them to dig in a location of our choosing we could get a healthy start at digging a new foundation for an addition, perhaps holes for tulip bulbs,  or maybe a goldfish pond.  We have a four legged house guest for a couple of weeks, so at the rate they are presently digging, if they were to connect the dots, we could wake up one day soon to find that our home is lakeside property.  The very same holes in the city would have been a serious matter that would have had to be dealt with immediately; fortunately living in the country it is humorous, curious and actually very amusing.  What a difference a few hundred miles makes in ones perception of a hole. 
    
    Once I have had a nice walk to clean out the cob webs in my head and some fresh air in my lungs; helping me to refocus my body and intentions; I am always ready to tackle the next task at hand and sometimes it gives me the opportunity to think up new projects.

    Randy has a good understanding that women need to make a nest.  He admits he doesn't completely understand the chemistry of this phenomena or what women get out of it but he does understand that it important to us and we appear to be comforted by having a nest and tending to our brood.   In an effort to be respectful to him as a man and my husband, I do my best to remember that transitions, even the most welcomed and exciting, does not come without its challenges and compromises; especially when it involves the blending of two more mature lives. 
  
  Moving to the farm has been a combining of many lives, far more than just the two of us in our happy world of Randy and Anita.  It is a transition for Randy, me, our dogs, our children, our grandchildren, siblings and our friends.  Life is Great but different for all of us.  I have the most generous husband with the biggest heart that any woman could ask.  He gives me full rein to decorate, rearrange, reuse, save, throw away, move furniture… whatever it takes to convert the home in which he had been living alone for a number of years into  “our home.” He wants nothing more than for me to be happy living on the farm and sharing in the farm life style that he loves and finds sacred.   Although he really isn’t interested in the day to day issues of redecorating, what we both agree on is “home” is wherever we are together, regardless of the location, city, state or topographical features.  Sharing our lives on the farm amplifies our love more than I could imagine.  I consciously remain respectful of his invitation and hold close his love, never taking it for granted.  I am not frivolous with my invitation into his life and space, yet now I am rearranging his entire world.  Randy openly admits that he had very little furniture and what he did have had no hold on him. He wasn't emotionally attached to anything except treasures from his family and of course his photographs.  What he did have a lot of was vast openness which was ideal for his yoga and meditation practice.  What he didn’t have was a lot of “stuff” to maintain.  To my “Yogi Farmer” I know these are important issues and considerations to keep in mind as we rearrange our world.

    I realize that I am not only building us a nest but I am  redesigning the space that he calls home and his children and grandchildren have known most of their lives as a safe place to come and be themselves.  Now there is a new decorator in town and it is quickly taking on new themes and becoming new space for all of us to sculpt out our own place within.

    Randy and I agree that we want our home to be one that respects the happy memories that have been made within these walls and a warm, open and inviting home to create new and treasured memories.  Our home will continue to be a safe place for all of our grandchildren to have new experiences and build new memories that will influence their lives and be shared with future generations. Our home will always have enough room that we can continue to grow individually and as a couple; it is a home where our friends know they are always welcomed. It is a home where we can bring all of our experiences and life lessons from the last 59 years and create something that comes closer to defining who we are now, individually and as a couple.  We are indeed blessed that all of our children and their mates and friends have facilitated and positively influenced a successful blending of “stuff.”  They have all been exceptionally loving and generous with their hearts and their backs.  With the help of all those who love us, we have an excellent start to an amazing life on the farm full of enough love for all of us.

Lessons I have learned:

·     Our memories are embedded in our hearts and spirits not in “stuff.”  There is no rearranging of furniture, lives or locations that can destroy, steal or hide them from us.

·    Things we love on the farm are many; cows, horses, dogs, cats, fields, pastures, trees, wildlife, ponds, creeks, flowers, crops, etc; but the heart of the farm will always be the home we share with those we love.

·     Dogs can dig endlessly with no known goal and appear to take pleasure in their accomplishments. They work harder and longer at digging than some people who are being paid a wage for a job.

·     Being able to burn trash in the country is very cathartic for those of us who occasionally need instant gratification.

We bless this home with love and serenity and our doors are open wide to welcome all those who enter with peaceful hearts.

I love the Farm

&

I Love You Randy

"NAMASTE, YA ALL" or THE WAVE

    

Today we woke to a beautiful December day with the sun shining, warming the truck as we headed north to our farm where our cows live. That farm is 45 minutes from the farm where we rest our heads at night. This is a peaceful drive that takes us through four very small towns and miles of farm land. The trip offers us an ideal time to laugh, sing, catch up on conversations and keep track of our neighbors' crops and herds.

It is refreshing how people in this rural area wave to each other. It doesn't matter whether they are in a vehicle, on a tractor or standing in their field; most people take the time to acknowledge our presence as we roll down the road.

While living in St. Louis, having traveled to most of the major cities in the US and several Internationally, I found "The Wave" is nearly obsolete in cities. In fact it seems that putting on their blinders as part of their daily uniform is as common as putting on their shoes. If blinders are properly secured they will prevent people from feeling required to greet or acknowledge every person that they see. I was first a country girl who later in life became a city dweller. Initially I thought it was out of rudeness or the lack of a proper up bringing that people in the city behaved in such a manner. Later I realized that for most people it is neither; it is more about survival. There is an enormous amount of energy bouncing from person to person that I believe makes people who live and work in the city retreat into themselves so they can carefully choose with whom they exchange their energy. I don't believe this is a conscious act or decision rather something that the body does to prevent sensory overload and for self-preservation.

When I started visiting the farm with Randy I immediately noticed the friendliness and took "The Wave" as a simple, courteous exchange between neighbors (although it was anyone on the road, not just neighbors.) Now that I am a farmer's wife who lives here full-time and travel the roads daily I have come to a deeper appreciation and understanding. "The wave" is not merely a neighborly gesture; it is acknowledgement of one's spirit. "The Wave" is physical recognition the person is valued for simply being alive. It doesn't matter that they don't know you personally. Their wave speaks to you, it is a sign that they are glad that you are here, sharing space on earth and that they honor your relationship with the universe. Their wave is like a silent "Namaste," meaning: "The spirit in me respects the spirit in you," or "the divinity in me bows to the divinity in you."

I will never take a wave, a point of the finger or a tipped hat for granted. A wave is meditation in movement and like a smile, it cost nothing. I believe if we all would wave with the kind of intention that I speak of above, the beneficiary of our kindness will feel the energetic connection and recognize the spiritual moment.

If you long for a piece of the serenity that comes with farm life, whether you live in the country or the city, I invite you to practice "The Wave" with perfect strangers and neighbors, then take time to be aware and enjoy the change it makes in you. We all have the power to improve our piece of the world.

I Love the Farm

& 

I Love You Randy

A PLACE TO PUT MY STUFF

I realize that I have conveyed all of the woes of combining two adult households, the moving and unpacking until we are all tired of thinking about it. I had decided to stop belaboring the topic. I don’t know a soul who loves such a move, but yesterday a trip to “Wally World” changed our lives. I have two words for all of you who are trying to fit into a smaller abode…. SPACE BAGS.

In the effort to consolidate summer and winter wear and having enough bedding that we could start a bed and breakfast, I had to have a better plan. Having “stuff” in storage seems contradictory to “downsizing” or living economically. I also don’t want to get rid of things that I will have to repurchase. My “acquiring” days for the sake of “acquiring” are long in my past. It doesn’t stop me from pausing through the “blue dish” aisle or fondling a beautiful silk throw pillow. I have the same appreciation; I just don’t have the need to own one of every color. My husband guides me away from the decorator pillow aisle like a “12 step” sponsor as he reminds me of the legacy of pillows we have to leave to the next generations of pillow lovers.

The solution came to me like a prophetic vision… or perhaps from too much web-gazing…. “SPACE BAGS.” I researched the reviews on these magical, new and improved bags. I had tried them over 15 years ago and had mixed results, but these “New” and “Improved” bags seem like a dream come true. Living rurally, convenient shopping is often limited, but as though a gift - like manna from the heavens, I discovered that the local Wal-Mart had just exactly what I was looking for in the way of “SPACE BAGS.” I eagerly joined Randy for a trip to the chain saw store so we could make a second stop to gaze up on these miraculous bags in person. After a bit of searching, low and behold, we found the mystical “SPACE BAGS.” There were so many choices that Randy decided we needed to try a few different shapes and sizes. This was either going to be REALLY GREAT or a somewhat expensive lesson in trusting web reviews. 

I was eager to use the bags. Having SO MUCH “STUFF” the starting point was the challenge, so I closed my eyes and asked the universe to guide me. It took me straight to the chest my father had made in his youth. I filled a bag with summer clothing, sweaters and jammies. I zipped it up and with great anticipation headed straight for the shop vac. I opened the cover and flipped the vacuums switch... The “sucking” began… out with the air. Sure enough, I am now a proud owner of a brick of clothes. It was such a marvel, I went crazy, and started emptying drawers and shelves of seasonal items…. Stashing, Sucking and Stowing seemed to be a theme. Now the chest is full holds six times as much as once called that space home.

The fun has just begun. I will never look at storage, stuff and space in the same way. Space Bags have notably changed our lives; towels used once in a blue moon…. In a “SPACE BAG,” Seasonal bedding… in a “SPACE BAG,” Table linens, “SPACE BAG,” Extra rugs and shower curtains, you have surely figured it out by now… yes, “SPACE BAG.” The ideas are endless! Now, if I could figure out how to put all those extra chairs, tables and lamps in a “SPACE BAG” I would really have my life organized.

With all this success, I couldn’t help but wonder; what if there is a vacuum catastrophe a leak in security? I am not sure what will happen to the house; will it explode like an over filled sandwich bag or will it blow up like the paper lunch bags that we use to fill with air and smack to hear the loud shot. (We obviously, didn’t have the environmental noise pollution that exist today, that we had to manufacture it to entertain ourselves.) One can’t live in the past or the future but in the moment and in this moment, the vacuum seals are secure, the house is becoming organized and all is well in this moment.

What I learned today: 

• “SPACE BAGS” are a great invention! 
• Label all “SPACE BAGS” because bricks of “STUFF” all look the same. 

As a very special aside; so you know that Randy honors my appreciation for beautiful things; one of my Christmas gifts was an exquisite purple pillow adorned with fluffy petals, so soft to the touch it makes you dream of horse kisses. It makes me go “ahhhh.”

I Love the Farm

And

I Love Randy

DAWN TO DUSK

Farm life reminds me of when I was a very young mother with three little ones and always a few spare children running under foot. It did not matter how early I arose or how late I stayed up, there was always something to do. When I was young I thought it would be a perfect day if at 5pm my job as mother, chief cook and bottle washer would end and I could prop my feet up until a reasonable bedtime and awake with nothing to do but take on the new day.

Life is different now. It is comforting to know that there is always something that needs my attention. I have no delusion that at 5pm everything will be completed and I will wake up to a blank canvas the next morning. I have to admit that I am a bit weary of unpacking and rearranging “stuff” to make room for more “stuff,” however; it has been a good lesson for me. I have come to accept that “stuff” that takes up space with no purpose most likely needs to go live with someone that has a need or purpose for that “stuff.” I have to wonder if this job will ever end or will my needs change and the “stuff” that once had a purpose will no longer have a priority. I am guessing since life is change, that will be the case with the “stuff.” My dear, sweet, husband tells me I have a life time to worry about what do to with all of the “stuff,” however I have to believe there must be better ways to fill my days than to worry about where to put “stuff.” I believe that the eliminating of unnecessary “stuff” is a good cleanse for the spirit as well as for the house. It makes room for new “stuff.” Maybe new memories, new experiences, new adventures or maybe just a new spot in the floor that you haven’t seen in a “coons age” (however long that is.) I believe only good can come from letting go of unused “stuff.”  

Randy and I had a conversation the other day about getting up early. It seemed sort of silly to me when your day is your own to wake up and start it before dawn. All I could do is think about how very tired I would be by dinner time. I convinced Randy that 4:30 AM was an unreasonable time for humans to be awake unless it was absolutely necessary. So we slept in until 7 am. We got up and he declared how late it was and I was thinking to myself… “This seems like an honorable time to begin my day when it is cold outside with the wind blowing.” The day got off to a slow start and I have to admit that neither of us accomplished as much as we wished for that the day. Once evening falls, it seems we are both ready to have dinner, curl up in the chair and enjoy catching up on some reading. What I have discovered is, in actuality, it does not matter what time we get up, we start calling it a day when the sun begins to set.  NOW I GET IT… Today we got up much earlier, Randy was on the Yoga mat and I had coffee in my hand before 6 AM. The day was off and running as the sun came up. It was invigorating and then I realized it makes sense to get up early. The plus is, if you get tired… sit down by the large windows and let the sun shine on you while you take a quick rest and soak up some vitamin D. It feels like a nap on the beach.  

Morning before sunrise is a very sacred time, especially in the country. Everything is so very still; even the birds that start chirping before sunrise to welcome the day start slow and soft. You can hear your thoughts. Stirring before dawn is meditation in movement. It is too mystical to not be enjoyed.

Last evening I was looking at some pictures that I may want to add to my blog when I came across the picture of my oldest grandson, Aidan, picking blueberries. He was so excited, he must have told Randy and I, (separately and together) twenty-five times how exciting it was to be able to pick blueberries and eat them, to be able to put them in the pancakes and it did not cost a thing, we did not have to go to the store, we just pick them and eat them. He was so impressed, excited and amazed that it kept him busy each morning picking berries before breakfast. With that in mind I started reading the new seed catalog that arrived in the mail that very day. I read it cover to cover. It sung to me of spring time and new adventures. I can’t wait to grow more things that the grandchildren can pick and prepare. There is nothing that gives a person more satisfaction than to plant, pick and eat their own food. The smile on Aidan’s face in the photo told me that it is a must that we plan a weekend with the grandchildren so they can plant things that they love to eat. With each visit and through the wonder of technology they can monitor the gardens progress. When they visit later in the year they can experience the feeling of accomplishment that one has when they dine on vegetables that they have grown, picked and prepared.

The beauty of farm life is that I have time to dream about the garden before it is time to plant and a husband that is as excited about the grandchildren having the experience as he is about the freshness it will add to our table.  

The lesson I have learned today: Getting up before sunrise only makes good sense! 

My break in the sun must come to an end for now. I am so happy to have plenty of day light to get back to the sorting of “stuff.”


                                   I Love Farm Life
                                             &
                                  I Love You Randy

DISTINGUISHING A WORK DAY FROM A HOLIDAY

I realize it is January 2, but since the holiday was on a Sunday we magically get another day of rest and relaxation.  Now here is the challenge, if you live on a farm, is there REALLY a 2^nd day of vacation?  What do you do to mark a “day off” when you have no boss or time clock to report to except yourself? The truth is when you have animals that must be honored and checked to make sure that they are safe, full, happy and playing nicely with others, there is really no day off. 

I prefer to look at it from a different perspective and that would be that EVERY DAY is a DAY OFF when you are where you want to be, doing what you want to do, with the person you want to share in the task.  I realize I am not much help at this point even though I am willing.  I can’t tote and throw the 50 pound bags of “cubes” for the cows, but I hope that I am at the very least moral support for Randy as he works so hard and  I have  become the company photographer. 

 With the weather being so mild for the first of January, the cows and horses are happy eating the grass, drinking from a pond and taking an occasional swim.  It is shocking to me that they can enjoy a swim in January; however; they seem to enjoy cooling their bellies just a bit.  Perhaps cows are smarter than people give them credit for being.  I remember being pregnant and how wonderful it felt to be in a pool of water.  The weight of the belly was completely relieved and I felt as light as a feather.  I am wondering if a pregnant cow doesn’t feel the same relief when she puts that big belly in the pond.  She probably feels like a ballerina.  Now that I think back, I think I heard a big sigh of relief and perhaps caught a smile out of the corner of my eye.  I will pay more attention the next time I see a pregnant cow in the pond.

My list of task today will be to find the floor of one guest room.  It is now filled with boxes, mostly empty thank goodness.  And those left behind are filled with things that we will most likely never need or would miss if they magically disappeared.  I also will do my best today to prepare some food that will appeal to my meat and potatoes husband.  If they can make soy taste like chicken, surely I could make chicken taste like beef! 

Lessons I have learned today:

When your children give you a coffee maker that grinds and makes coffee for you magically – it still takes a human being to empty the old coffee grounds.  Some things have not been replaced by a machine…. But I am interested in one when they out on the market.

If you live on a country, gravel road and you heat your house with a wood burning stove, you will ALWAYS have dust.  There is really no solution except perpetual dusting or using the dusty coffee table as a palate to write inspirational messages to each other…. Of course, “DUST ME” will not be allowed.  Maybe we will start with “there is always tomorrow!”

Loving life on the Farm!

&

I Love You Randy