I liked it so much last year I had to do it again – plant my loose leaf blend lettuce, that is. It’s taken a little more time and care this year though to get it started since the weather has turned out so dry and I have a sneaky suspicion that for once the climatologist had it right … Nebraska is in for a very dry summer. This is so much the opposite of last year when during the whole month of May, my garden was under water and the highs were in the 50s.

This garden isn’t big by any means – this first harvest is probably enough to accompany my lunch tomorrow – but that doesn’t squelch my pride one bit. My onions, carrots and broccoli need a little grandmotherly TLC and she’s so graciously offered to come help me thin them once I wet it so the ground is loose. She even has a special contraption that consists of a jar with a hole to help you evenly space those seeds that are so tiny they require a tweezers to pick them up. I might have to carefully inspect the design of hers and then make one of my own!

So while the farmers are busy getting their irrigation primed and ready, I’ve been watering away on my garden, hoping it’s enough to save the poor tomato plants from burning to a crisp in late-May.

Until we walk again …

In honor of Mother’s Day yesterday, I thought I’d post another picture of momma and filly. It’s with a sad heart that I post this, too, because I believe a new home has been found for “Surprise” once she’s weaned. I feel a little like I’m losing one of my own, and as a mother myself, it’s hard to see something so young let go…to have someone else raise her…to have someone else take care of her.

My husband is all about blood lines and being able to trace back her lineage, so we need a father with papers. That means poor momma is going to have another baby (hopefully) next year. I know she’s designed to do that, but we got a girl the first time out of the gate and who’s to say the next five won’t be boys? (We’d hoped for a female because they’re a bit more docile than boys. You know, those boys are trouble-makers!)

I will leave it up to my husband to separate momma and filly when it’s weaning time. A clean break – that’s best, right? But since I work from home, I’m the one who will get to listen to momma’s neighs, wondering where her baby is.

Such is life on the farm. Another baby will come along and I’ll gush over how cute it is, take pictures, write a little something and life will go on.

Until we walk again …

A little over a week ago I planted my entire garden and my new job responsibility around our place is “always watering or feeding something”. Whether it be the horses or cat, trees or new flowers, garden, husband and son, they all have to eat and drink.

So every evening, you can see me dragging three hoses through the yard to various items to give them a drink. But my persistence has paid off and in less than a week, everything I planted in my garden is growing.

My cucumbers came up gang-busters as have my sugar snap peas…and last night we just installed the chicken wire and electric fence stakes to hold up the climbing tendrils. Come the end of July, my family will be tired of mixed greens lettuce and spinach (things I can’t freeze), but I’m hoping that the carrots and cucumbers come up at the same time to complement our “greenery”.

And so far so good on having no weeds in the new raised beds. The dirt is fresh and untouched which should make for a bountiful harvest – and black kitty continues to keep the rabbits away (he just caught another one last week!) – so bring on summer! Oh – and a little rain would be nice, please.

Until we walk again …

So this morning I was going about my usual routine (even had time to throw a pie in the oven) getting my boys off to work and to the babysitter. I came home, continued that routine and was off to work when my husband comes in the door and says, “Did you see what was out in the pasture?” Nope. Hadn’t even bothered to look in that direction.

The past few weeks we’d thought Thelma was looking a little chunky, but she’s always been a little bigger than Louise. Now we know why.

This little filly was born last night in the middle of a rain storm. Look at those long, knobby knees. She’s absolutely adorable.

Now it has us wondering if the other one is bred, too! It must have happened a day or two before we got them last summer. Ah, the daily surprises on the farm!

Until we walk again …

I’m not referencing the movie that’s in the theater, although I did see it and it was very good. (Ten minutes into it though, I realized I’d read the book!) I’m talking about my husband…I’m going to start calling him the lucky one. There are some people in this world who seem to have luck on their side; those who just stumble upon exactly what it is they were looking for, even if they didn’t know they were seeking it. Luck just finds them. That’s my husband.

When it comes to business ventures, he’s meeting new people every day, making new contacts, new friendships, new partnerships and I never know what kind of surprise his day is going to hold. He also possesses a skill, a trade, where he can help people. He can build things, anything. He can fix things. He creates things that are immediately worth more than the blank ground they started on.

When I see him pull in the driveway each evening, I make a quick scan of his truck or trailer to see if he’s brought home something new, which happens quite often. Now this couldn’t be loaded onto a trailer, but it’s his next “project.” It’s an old lumber yard that he’s going to acquire and in his eyes, it just needs a little TLC. He sees something fabulous – something that with a little bit of work can be a masterpiece. The only non-rickety part I saw from the outside was this door. I said, “If you do anything to this building, save this door.”

Don’t you think it would make for a great coffee table?

Until we walk again …

When I was growing up, my mom had a job working at the high school and every morning she’d leave me with my day’s “to do” list of chores. This included dusting (which was my absolute least favorite), vacuuming, organizing, taking trash out, sweeping, watering plants … you see the trend. They were pretty mindless jobs that kept a 12-year-old out of trouble for most of the day and I didn’t mind because I could listen to music and be in my own little world. And, I always felt like my life had purpose because mom put ME in charge of making lunch for my dad. I was so proud that he no longer had to eat grilled cheese sandwiches.

*Note: There’s nothing wrong with grilled cheese sandwiches, in fact, I love them. But dad would butter some bread, put it in the toaster, slap on a slice of cheese and then microwave it. Talk about mushy, soggy sandwiches!! He had it all wrong.

Now that I’m older, I wish my dad would’ve included me in more farm chores so I could’ve learned about the in’s and out’s of agriculture; but he was of the thought that it wasn’t safe to have girls on the farm or around the big equipment. Nonetheless, the chores I had kept me occupied without the television on, and even when I got in trouble for just dusting around the knick-knacks instead of removing all of them and THEN dusting, that was my purpose those few summers until I got a job.

Things were a little different for my grandfather when he was a boy. Listen to his story about some of HIS boyhood chores.

Until we walk again …

For more than a month now, four kinds of tomatoes and four kinds of peppers in 20 labeled “ready-to-plant” potters have been sitting on our kitchen table and now in the garage. I’m waiting. Earlier this month we had two weeks of 85-degree days but then Monday morning of this week we had frost again.

And I don’t have enough empty milk jugs and wall-o-waters to cover all the plants. I believe the Farmer’s Almanac says to wait to plant May 1 this year and I think that’s a pretty reliable source.

Last year was my first attempt at a “real” home garden, with help and suggestions from my grandma. We put it in the wrong place – it didn’t get enough sun and when we went through a rainy spell, it was underwater. I didn’t thin my head lettuce. Or my onions. I’m calling it a practice year.

This year, my husband (because he’s handy with EVERYTHING) built me these five raised bed planters. Aren’t they great? And, we still have one black kitty to keep the rabbits away and fertilize.

I’m hoping for a better crop this year…happy planting to all who are doing a home garden!

Until we walk again …

My work is never done around the house. There’s always something to be cleaned or fixed or planted or watered. I told my mother this weekend that’s all I feel like I do is feed and water things around our house, whether it’s the horses, the black kitty, my family, or now our new trees.

They completely transform the front yard: eight pine trees and two maple trees –they’re beautiful. We still have landscaping to do, but that was secondary to getting a good stand of grass our first year in the new house. Now, year two is “prettying it up.”

The hose and I are getting to know each other well.

Sometime I’ll have to show you a photo of the raised garden beds my husband built. I’ve also recently gotten to know the shovel quite well.

Until we walk again …

This past Saturday night was an eventful one. The weather turned bad at about 4 p.m. so I lit the grill and threw on the steaks. At about 5 p.m., our lights started to flicker so I quickly warmed up the extras in the microwave; 10 minutes into our supper, we lost electricity.

Thirty minutes later, my mom called with a frantic voice: “Are you okay?”
I responded, “Of course, why?”

As we were bragging about how good our steak and bacon was from the grill, a tornado touched down just a half mile west of our house. Our neighbors lost a shed door and metal shingles, my brother’s pivot was a bit crunched, and our friends’ trampoline was in the creek and half of their grill is still missing. This is just part of the tornado path up the hill from us. And the wind blew 70 mph the remainder of the night and all through the next day.

We’d looked out the window and saw rain coming from two different directions but never did hear a thing, even with the silence of having no electricity!

So we hopped in the truck and drove around (and we met half the county doing the same) to take a look at the damage and make sure our neighbors and my grandparents were okay. Luckily, the shed was the worst of it…and I say luckily because of what happened in Oklahoma, Kansas and Iowa that same night.

I’m a little gun-shy for what’s to come with the rest of the summer and our crazy weather. I wanted to get my son and his sleeping bag and sleep in our safe room – regardless of the fact it has a cold, tile floor!

Until we walk again …

I’ve lived on both sides of the street, so to speak. I’ve lived in town where my insurance agent loved it because the nearest fire station was only one mile away. That was good for homeowners insurance. I’ve also lived (and still do!) in a rural community where the closest fire department is only five miles away but you have to have a well for the truck to hook into for water, and their philosophy is to only save what they can of the structure or foundation.

Another big difference between the two is that when I was growing up, one of my weekly chores was to burn the trash. We’d collect it in the garage and it would always take me at least 15 minutes to get the fire lit. When mom asked what took so long, I’d tell her it was windy and the match wouldn’t spark. In truth, I was just striking a match just to watch it burn, literally. I missed that about living in the city where we couldn’t burn trash.

But back here on the farm, we burn boxes, plywood, wood scraps – you name it and if it melts, we burn it. It also helps that we’re friends with the fire chief!

Field fires can be very dangerous though if left untended and uncontrolled. Listen to my grandfather’s story about his experience with fighting an 80-acre fire with no fire truck in sight.
Listen to Grandpa explain

Until we walk again …

This photo really has nothing to do with agriculture other than it features my father-in-law (who is a farmer) and my son (who lives on the farm). But I had to share it. We spent the Easter holiday in western Kansas – an area that is the exact opposite of where we live now in Nebraska. It rarely rains, there are no trees, it’s flat and the air is dry. But it has its own beauty, including wide open space, watching a storm roll in across the high plains and the opportunity for my son to ride on tractors, feed the cows and roam outside on a farm where the closest neighbor is eight miles away.

My son is also lucky enough to have three living great-grandparents. Not many kids can say that these days. So on our visit to great-grandma’s house and while out perusing for Easter eggs in the back yard, he and grandpa stopped to smell the lilac bushes. (I passed because lilacs drive my allergies crazy.)

It just reminded me of how busy our lives can be and how small the “big” things are when put into perspective. We took a lot of time this weekend to smell the flowers and those are the things to record in the memory book.

Until we walk again …

Mother Nature has farmers in southeast Nebraska wondering when the earliest date is to get in the fields to plant corn. With 80-degree days for the past couple of weeks it feels like spring has sprung. My tomato and pepper plants are in the garage, 4 inches tall and ready to be transplanted to my garden, but I too am leery of a late cold spell.

So how do you know it’s spring? The trees are budding, our plum thicket is covered with blooms, we’ve already used sunscreen, and I mowed my grass.

My grandfather can recall a certain childhood story about a man looking for work husking corn. His pay was meals and a place to sleep in the barn. And through this meeting with the unnamed wanderer, Grandpa also learned how you know for sure it’s springtime.

Listen to my grandpa’s story here. Listen to Grandpa explain

Until we walk again …

I have a fairly short list when it comes to things I’m afraid of. And I don’t mean squeamish, I mean scared. Topping the list is any critter that buzzes – horse flies, wasps, sweat bees, bumblebees, hornets. (I guess if you add those all up, that’s quite a start to the list.) If it’s buzzing, I’m running.

And let me tell you, the joy that comes from me learning about the way agriculture “used to be” from my grandpa has numerous benefits. I get to know my grandfather better, learn how times and technologies have changed and yet some things in life remain unchanged, and every once-in-a-while, I get to hear stories about events from his childhood that make me feel a bit better about some of the charades I used to pull when I was younger.

This particular story has to do with a couple of teenage boys, bees and a livestock tank. And it’s a scenario I’d never find myself in.

Listen to my interview with grandpa here. Listen to the story

Disclaimer: I do hope you are enjoying the audio and art of storytelling.

Until we walk again …

In this post comparing farming “then” to farming “now”, and in honor of the quickly approaching planting season, I interviewed my grandfather about his check-row planter that they used in the ‘30s. Back then, the typical farm size was 80-160 acres and they started planting corn around May 10th.

Grandpa says, “We started planting corn when the hedge leaves were the size of squirrel ears.”

Today we have technology to farm faster, more acres, more hours, and more yield potential through the use of guidance systems and 24, 36 or 48-row planters. And I doubt if anyone watches how big the leaves are on the hedge trees.

Here’s my interview about planting with my grandpa. Listen to more here

Until we walk again …

This is the speed limit for the 8-mile stretch of highway that runs in front of our house. There are very few miles of road left in Nebraska with a 55 mph speed limit and unfortunately, there’s one out front of our house. I’d hate to count how many people have been pulled over for speeding in my grandparents’ driveway, me included.

It’s just so hard to drive 55! And to top it off, the road is very hilly and even set on cruise control, as you’re coasting down the hill the car usually ends up over 60 mph. Explain that to the policeman. “I swear officer, I was just coasting.”

The federal 55 mph limit for most highways in Nebraska was repealed in 1996 but our highway didn’t make the cut.

I guess Sammy Hagar said it best.

Until we walk again …

I often wonder … how many minutes each day do I actually spend staring straight out my car windshield versus staring at the landscape around me? Then I realize how dangerous that thought is. But if I didn’t spend time taking in the beauty of what’s around me every day, I’d miss skies like this.

Disclaimer: I adjusted the color levels in Photoshop. I couldn’t help myself.

But the design of the sky is beautiful and there aren’t any tall buildings in the way or exhaust clouds clouding my view. Just an undistorted, unblemished beautiful country sky with the fresh country air to go with it.

When my son is in the car, I try not to do so much gawking and concentrate more on driving.

Until we walk again …

Four feet tall. Do you think my flowers will grow to be 4-feet tall in this old ice cream pail? It was the only package of flower seeds I had around when I found myself in need of an activity to entertain four children under the age of 10 and three of them were girls. So we dug in the dirt (a favorite activity for my son) and planted flowers.

They’re cosmos flowers and really supposed to be outside, but it was the middle of February and 60 degrees so we couldn’t resist. Actually, I think I tricked the four kids into an activity just to fulfill my desire to start doing outside gardening activities just a bit early.

That said, if these flowers grow to be 4-feet tall in an old ice cream bucket inside on my dinner table, we’re in trouble.

The older girls were excited to see the flowers spouting. For my son, the experience was short-lived and as soon as the trowels were cleaned off and put away, he was on to the next project. Maybe if I can keep them alive, I can transplant them outside when all signs of frost are gone.

Until we walk again …

In the coming month, the space by our east window (next to the dining room table, mind you) is going to look and feel like a greenhouse, complete with seed starters and the aroma of freshly watered planting soil. Yes, we went to the store this weekend and bought a variety of seeds: lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, melons, broccoli, spinach and onion. I have the itch to start gardening soon.

There’s just one problem – a driveway now exists where my previous garden used to be. So this year I have one request of my husband (a.k.a. home-builder and Mr. Fix Anything): Build me a garden with beams that are screwed together at the ends and filled with soil so I don’t have a small pond every time it rains, and it must be in the direct sunlight, not close to our hedge of trees.

Oh, and along with that comes finding new kitties to keep the rabbits and birds away since the highway just claimed another victim, leaving me with only one lonely black kitty. (I guess that’s two requests.)

My grandmother, gardener extraordinaire, suggested I wait to start my indoor seeds until mid-March so as to plant in May. Last year I got the “crop” in a bit early and it was subjected to frost and cold rains. I’m not sure I can contain my excitement until then.

Are you planting a garden this year?

Until we walk again …

Even though I work from home, I still elect to take our son to daycare for a number of reasons. First, so I can actually GET work done and not have to entertain all day; second, so he gets social interaction with other children his age; and third, so he appreciates coming home at night to mommy and daddy. This week however, the daycare he attends is closed.

Since it’s 40 degrees outside and it’s February, we decided to get some fresh air and go blow bubbles. Bubbles in February. That was immediately follow by going to get the mail, a wagon ride, cleaning the mud off the driveway and puddle jumping. Not for me, for our son.

He is all boy, too. These are his post-puddle-jumping boots – soaked through to his socks and half-way up his pant legs. A little chilly and wet, he didn’t have a care in the world as he wound up his arms and gave it his all, grinning and giggling the entire time.

This was hard for me to watch because even though I am the mom who loves to get dirty and garden and play in the mud myself, the mud stays outside. I stripped him down to his tighty whities in the garage before he came in.

Until we walk (or puddle jump) again …