Clearing the Fog

The fog was like a wet blanket as I walked down my country road one day last week. If I'm honest, it matched my mood. My feelings were hurt, and my spirit felt the heaviness of the morning.

I really didn't want to walk. It's like that sometimes, when your feet feel as heavy as your heart. But I did it anyway.

As I was walking, the sun started to filter through the clouds and cast golden light on the horizon. Slowly, but surely, the light penetrated the fog. The Light was doing the same for me.

Instead of focusing on the darkness, I began looking with eyes wide open to the beauty. The miniscule dew drops looked like diamonds as they clung tenaciously to the wheat heads.

Moisture gave a luster and freshness to the flowering shrub in my backyard.

Soft sunlight illuminated the pasture fence that seemed to stretch forever as it disappeared into the morning fog.

 And wouldn't you know it? An email devotional showed up at about the same time:

Choosing to be positive and having a grateful attitude is going to determine how you're going to live your life. Approach the day with a joyful attitude. A positive attitude is one of the greatest spiritual gifts. Help us remember to praise!

From a Guideposts email devotional

 

This week, as I watched coverage from the devastation that tornadoes brought to our neighbors to the south in Shawnee and Moore, Okla., it's easy to feel that "fog" pull me down again. But there is so much light - if I look hard enough. I could see it in the tired eyes of the emergency workers. I saw it as teachers hugged the students they had protected with their own bodies as the storm roared overhead. I could hear it in the brave words of people who have lost everything but the clothes on their back, but who were just thankful to be alive and who vowed to rebuild.

I see Light as delegates to the Kansas West Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church gather in Hutchinson. Today, there's a special offering being taken for UMCOR (United Methodist Committee on Relief), and every penny goes to victims. If you'd like to donate $10 immediately, text RESPONSE to 80888. Or to give online,  click on the following link:
https://secure3.convio.net/gbgm/site/SPageNavigator/umcor_donate.html?type=1002&project=901670

We are not alone. This is happening all over the U.S. as people's hearts, hands and resources reach out to those in need.

And, on this Memorial Day weekend as we remember those who sacrificed for our country and those family members who were so important to our heritage, we can find light, too. Have a safe and blessed weekend, everyone!

Hatfields and McCoys

It's the Wheat Farmer vs. the Corn Farmer. I don't think it's the modern-day version of the Hatfields and the McCoys. But, come planting time, there was a slightly different outlook on weather conditions.

At my parents' and brother's farming operation in Pratt County, corn is king. Our 350 acres of dryland corn pale in comparison to the cropland they have allocated to dryland and irrigated circles of corn.

Randy was happy to have his corn planting interrupted with rain because of the benefits to the 2013 wheat crop and to our drought-strained pastures. At the same time, my brother was ready for some uninterrupted corn planting.  I guess it's the difference between a Wheat Farmer and a Corn Farmer. (In all fairness, Kent is thankful for the moisture, too. He just would have liked to order it like you order a Diet Coke at the drive-through. Aren't all farm families like that, if we're honest?)

Wheat is still our primary crop at the County Line. But this year, we have added a new crop to the rotation. We planted corn for the first time in our 32 years of farming together.

In recent years, there has been some dryland corn planted in our area, but wheat is the dominate crop. For most in this immediate area, irrigation is not an option. Our proximity to Quivira National Wildlife Refuge and its salt marshes is not ideal for quality ground water for irrigation.

Corn was a primary crop in this area when it was settled. The 6th Biennial Report of the Kansas State Board of Agriculture of 1888 reported that corn was the main crop for Stafford County, covering 48,030 acres. Oats were grown on 10,849 acres, while the winter wheat crop totaled 8,717 acres. Pasture ground was tallied at 13,446 acres. Other crops in 1888 were millet, spring wheat, rye, Irish and sweet potatoes, sorghum, castor beans, cotton, flax, hemp, tobacco and broom corn. Swine outnumbered cattle in livestock. (Information taken from Stafford County History: 1870-1990.)

So, in some ways, I guess we are returning to Randy's Stafford County farming ancestors' roots. However, the corn planted today is much different than the varieties planted 125 years ago.

Today, many farmers plant RIB corn (refuge in a bag) - whether it's irrigated or dryland.

The green-colored seeds have a different genetic make-up and are treated with a different insecticide than the pink-colored seeds. The pink seeds are a refuge for several different insects in a field, giving them a habitat to satisfy EPA rules. Before RIB technology was available, farmers had to plant so many acres in a field to a corn that wasn't resistant to the bugs and the rest of the field could be resistant. With RIB technology, farmers can plant it all at the same time, without changing seed and figuring acreage requirements. 

Our planter was set at 18,200 corn seeds per acre. Each $280 bag had 80,000 seeds and plants 4.4 acres. One bag of certified wheat seed costs $15 and plants a little more than 1/2 an acre. A bag of milo seed costs $100 and plants 14 acres.

This year, instead of planting milo as our row crop, we planted corn. There's a potential for higher yields (or so My Farmer says. I don't think he is just justifying the purchase of a corn header for the combine). There is more drought tolerance built into dryland corn seeds than previously available. 

Additionally, corn is Round-Up ready, and milo is not. We have been having trouble controlling weeds in milo. If there are weeds and grasses in the corn, we can spray with Round-Up without harming the growing plants.

After a planting period filled with more rain delays than a college baseball season, all our corn crop is up and growing. Time will tell whether this new approach will be profitable on the County Line.

Memorial Day Picnic Salad

Jill helping decorate graves in 1988 - Age 2 1/2

On Sunday, I'll join my parents for our annual Memorial Day pilgrimage to several Pratt and Stafford County cemeteries. Then, on Monday, Randy's sister, Kathy, and family will be here to decorate graves for that side of the family.

Back when I was a little girl, my Grandma and Grandpa Leonard from Sublette came back to their home county (Pratt) to make the trip on Memorial Day weekend. My Grandma's flowers were usually from her own garden and carefully arranged in cans which my Grandpa had spray-painted a dark green.
(There she is in the background with my Grandpa in 1989. Brent, 1, is with my Dad, and the young-looking guy in the middle is Randy.)

Maybe you don't think about a cemetery being a joyful place. But when I see the joy in these two little girls' faces, I can't help but think that the ancestors whose graves we were visiting had to be smiling as the little girls danced. (Read more in my 2010 blog post, Dancing in the Graveyard.)

Dancing in the graveyard - Jill & Paige - 1988

When I was a little girl about their age, we sometimes gathered at Lemon Park in Pratt for a picnic before our car caravan to the cemeteries. My Great Aunt Helen and Great Uncle Mike and their family would often meet us there. As a child, I loved getting together, eating homemade favorites and playing on the playground equipment until it was time to go and place flowers on graves of ancestors, some of whom I remembered and some who had died long before I was born.

At the time, I was blissfully unaware that preparing a picnic meal while also getting flowers ready for Decoration Day was more work for Moms and Grandmas. These days, we usually let a local pizza parlor do the cooking for us. And that's OK, too. But, if you have a picnic or a potluck to attend this Memorial Day weekend, this Cornbread Confetti Salad could be a contender. 

I last made it for a funeral dinner at church. It makes a large amount, which is great anytime you need to serve a crowd. Enjoy!

Cornbread Confetti Salad

From Taste of Home magazine

1 pkg. (8.5 oz.) cornbread/muffin mix
2 cans (15.5 oz. each) whole kernel corn, drained
2 cans (15 oz. each) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (15 oz.) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 pt. grape tomatoes, halved (or 3 small tomatoes, chopped)
1 medium green pepper, chopped
1 medium sweet red pepper, chopped
1/2 cup chopped green onions (bulb and green tops)
10 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled
2 cups (8 oz.) shredded Cheddar cheese

Dressing:
1 cup (8 oz.) sour cream
1 cup Miracle Whip
1 envelope ranch salad dressing mix

Prepare cornbread according to package directions. Cool completely; crumble. Set aside.

Combine dressing ingredients; set aside.

In a large bowl, combine corn, beans, tomatoes, peppers and onions. Refrigerate.

Just before serving, add corn bread, crumbled bacon and cheese to the bean mixture. Pour dressing over all and toss to coat. Makes 20 to 22 servings.

Notes: I used both low-fat Miracle Whip and sour cream. Instead of preparing my own bacon, I used a package of already prepared real bacon bits found near the salad dressings. It was more expensive, but it worked well and saved time and mess.

The original recipe added the cornbread to the beans ahead of time. I prefer not having the cornbread, bacon and cheese soggy, so I add those just before serving. However, the leftovers were still good even with all the ingredients combined.

If you are serving this at an outdoor event, be sure and have a cooler ready for the leftovers.

Here's another potluck salad good for a Memorial Day outing:

Marinated Vegetable Salad

***

I am linked today to Ashley's What's In Your Kitchen Wednesday. Click on the link to see what's cooking with other food bloggers.

Advice for Graduates by Kinley Marie

Madison with Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Moore

Advice for Graduates

By Kinley Marie

Amanda and grandparents Woody & Nadine Logback

I learned a new word this week: Graduation. It is a big word for someone like me. From what I can tell, the people who graduate wear funny hats.

I know all about funny hats because my Grandpa is always putting silly things on his head. He looks much sillier than the girls who were wearing their caps and gowns.

Anyway, I went to a party for one of the graduates I know on Saturday. Amanda, who is my Great Aunt Kathy's and Uncle Dave's oldest daughter, graduated from Rose Hill High School on Sunday. The week before, my Great Uncle Kent's and Aunt Suzanne's daughter, Madison, graduated from Skyline High School.  My Great Uncle Bruce's and Aunt Nina's daughter, Anna, also graduated from Corrie ten Boom Academy last week.

Whew! That is a lot of graduations. Thankfully, I didn't actually have to sit through any of them. But, I've heard that graduations are a time for advice. I am glad to offer what little I have learned in my time here on earth. I am, after all, fast approaching 17 months of age.

First of all, I would advise the graduates to stop and smell the roses.

If no roses are available, they should stop and smell the geraniums. You should notice the pretty stuff in life.

And if you get a chance to hang on to the pretty stuff, go for it. It will make you happy. (Until you get in trouble for pulling off the petals. I think it's probably worth it anyway.)

Some things in life are easier. You can even do them pretty much by yourself. You should figure out what those things are and do them the very best you can.

Some things are a little more difficult. People may have to give you a little push. And sometimes they have to catch you, too. Be thankful for the helpers in your life.

Some things are just too big to do by yourself. And it's OK to ask for help. Sometimes it's more fun to do things with the people you love.

Greeting cards and graduation speakers are always telling graduates to reach for the stars. I think that's pretty good advice.

But sometimes you'll reach for things and, for the life of you, you just can't quite reach them.

And that's OK. Ask for help. Try again. And learn from the experience. You probably learn more after you fall down than if you do it perfectly the first time. At least, that's what my Grandma says.

While you're reaching for the stars, be sure and bow your head and say your prayers, too. That's the most important thing of all.

***

A message from Grandma: Prayers for those devastated by the tornado in Moore, Okla. There are no words.

These Boots Were Made for Watching

These boots are made for "watching"

And that's just what they'll do.

One of these days these boots

Are gonna help sort cattle, too.

Last week, I sent out my apologies for appropriating Bryan Adams' Everything I Do, I Do It for You as my Barnyard Ballad of the Week. Today, my timeless tune is Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Are Made for Walking.

These boots, however, belong to Miss E, our sometimes cattle helper. And her boots were made for watching as we gathered, sorted and hauled cow-calf pairs last week.

These boots were also made for running ...

 

For climbing ...

And for counting baby calves ...

Miss E's boots got to witness the arrival of baby calves and their mamas to summer pasture. Her trailer included the little brown calf she had claimed as her own. Here was "her" baby when Miss E helped us work the calves on March 20 ...

... and as it arrived at the Rattlesnake Pasture on May 15.

Those boots stood by as the mamas, babies and bulls came out of the pens and took their first look at the pastures where they'll spend the next few months.

Miss E's boots also got a piggyback ride or two.

Can you tell that my tennis shoes were not afforded that same luxury?

 

Instead, they walked through that mud puddle, where Randy had to come and rescue me from sinking. (Yes, he told me I should go over the fence. I should have listened.)

But my "cattle shoes" lasted through this tour of duty. We got all the pairs moved last week to three different pastures. The cattle's arrival at the Rattlesnake Pasture was delayed by design. Most years, we move cattle to that pasture May 1. Because of the drought, the pasture's grass reserves have been depleted. So we took a third fewer pairs to pasture and also delayed the transition by two weeks to give the grasses a little more time to grow. 

My shoes were made for walking

And that's just what they'll do.

One of these days these shoes

Are gonna be too trashed to use. 

 A little equal time: Arrival at the Ninnescah Pasture

Everything I Do, I Do It For You

As Mr. Bull looked longingly over the fence at the "ladies," a sound track looped through my mind. With apologies to rock crooner Bryan Adams and his Everything I Do, I Do It For You, it became the Ballad of the Barnyard, at least in my mind.

Look into my eyes, you will see

What you mean to me

Search your heart, search your soul

And when you find me there

You'll search no more ...

And, as the bulls fought for supremacy while we sorted mamas and babies before their respective rides to pastures, the verses just kept coming ...

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you, oh yeah.

The bulls got their own private limousine (well, trailer) ride apart from the ladies and babies. Kinda of like rock star status. (Eat your heart out Bryan Adams!)

When we arrived at the pasture to the south of our house, Randy pointed the way to Mr. Bull's harem. (When I posted this photo to Facebook, a non-agriculture-based friend asked if pointing is how we get cattle to go the way we want. It's a very good question. I wish it were that easy. Nature does the pointing when you're talking bulls and cows. But this was just a case of Randy attempting a little humor after a morning of sorting cattle.)

 

Anyway, all imaginings of a sexy crooner immediately got left behind in the poopy trailer as the bull began his own song. With his high-pitched call, Our Romeo ended up sounding more like Peewee Herman instead of a seductive, smooth-as-silk bass like Barry White and his Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe. 

It was the same high-pitched call for the bull who arrived at the Ninnescah Pasture. I wanted to tell them both that I thought they'd have better luck attracting the ladies if they went for a more robust sound, perhaps emulating Luther Vandross and his Always and Forever.

It seems to work for them though. Or it better. We want lots of little baby calves running around next winter.

Sometimes, Barnyard Lotharios leave behind their calling cards. We don't have a Charolais bull. But a neighbor does. This little guy doesn't look much like his coal-black mother, does he? I suspect he's the spitting image of his Daddy, who is now long gone. However, we don't have a purebred cow-calf herd, so he's joined his contemporaries in the pasture.

In recent years, we've had one Hereford bull and four Angus bulls. Each year, the bulls go through a version of a "job interview" with a check-up from the veterinarian to make sure each is able to perform his appointed duties.

When Randy is looking for a new bull to add to our herd, it's not just a beauty contest, though looking for correct conformation for each breed is one factor in the decision-making process. Randy also looks for bulls that produce smaller birth weight calves, but whose progeny have higher 205-day weaning weights and yearling weights.

 

Yesterday, the little Charolais calf and its 2013 "classmates" returned to the scene of the "crime" at the Rattlesnake Pasture. Let's hope his Daddy doesn't exercise his visitation rights again this summer.