Knee High by the 4th of July?

Knee high by the 4th of July.

Just like putting something in the "ice box" or saving something to a "floppy disk," the terminology is no longer relevant today. Once upon a time, corn farmers measured the success of their corn crop, wanting it to be "knee high by the 4th of July." 

So did Rodgers and Hammerstein have a more accurate measuring stick for today's corn? In “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” from their musical, Oklahoma!, the main characters marvel at the height of the corn, singing:

“There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow ...

The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye,

And it looks like it’s climbin’ clear up to the sky.”

Since there were no elephants around, I used my handy 6-foot-1-inch measuring stick. I'd say it looks good ... for now.  

With significant advances in agricultural technology, genetics, disease control and growth efficiency, today’s farmers can expect corn to reach far higher than the knee come Independence Day. Modern corn can flourish in conditions that might have stunted the plant in past generations. So in dry times or wet, too warm or too cool, the stalk generally keeps on growing and produces an ear. 

As you can see in the photo below, we got quite a bit of rain last week. Depending on the location, we got between 2 and 4 inches.

While our dryland corn liked the moisture, it was not so good for harvesting wheat. We cut late Monday afternoon (June 28 - after rains the weekend before kept us out of the field) and then weren't able to cut again until late evening, July 2. It gave us plenty of time for a crop update tour and other excursions.

The toadstools growing on the Stafford golf course sometimes caused some confusion with golf balls. It's not often you make a trip to the golf course when there's still wheat to be cut. But it took our minds off the uncompleted task for a little bit, I suppose.

The clouds provided a pretty backdrop for some dramatic landscape photos on the way home, too.

 

The humidity didn't allow early starts in the wheat field.

After Randy checked pastures on Saturday, he suggested a photo opportunity along U.S. Highway 50, just outside Sylvia. Someone had decorated their barbed wire fence with American flags. 

That excursion had me looking for my own medium-sized American flag for some shots in our wheat field while we waited on the sun to dry out the wheat.

Test weights suffered from the rain, but, thankfully, we didn't get hail or extreme wind, so the crop kept standing. The wheat is still yielding well. Yes, we are still cutting.

And, when you have time to play with filters and such, you make patriotic messages on photos.

The hiatus also gave me more time to practice the patriotic piano prelude I had planned for church on the 4th of July.  I played "The Star-Spangled Banner," "Battle Hymn of the Republic," "God Bless America" and "America" before church started on Sunday, July 4. And I also played during communion, so it was a lot of extra playing. These days, I think about my piano teacher, Mrs. Lighter. She'd be amazed that the Moore girl with the least natural ability on the piano spends so much time playing these days. If only I'd devoted that practice time as a kid ... Oh, the wisdom of advancing age!

Thankfully, we hired a young farmer from the area to do some custom cutting for us. So we are getting closer to completion. The finish line is hovering at the horizon (though not today).

 

We are thankful for the co-op workers who came in to weigh and dump wheat trucks at Zenith on Saturday and Monday. I did take them some cookies. (I know it's not much, but we appreciate their work when many people were celebrating the 4th at the lake or elsewhere. The custom harvesters got a cookie delivery, too.)

The hay fields liked the rains, too. As I walked to the combine through an alfalfa field last evening after delivering supper, I decided that my camera needed "smell-o-vision." Swathing and baling the second cutting will have to wait until after we are done with the wheat.

Randy is battling some mud as we continue cutting. So far, he's been able to work his way through it. We hope that trend continues.

 

I Pledge Allegiance

The first two photos were taken at the funeral of World War II veteran Jake Yarbrough, November 4, 2015, Stafford, KS

We often take for granted

the very things

that most deserve our gratitude.

--Cynthia Ozick 

It was at Byers Grade School that I learned the words to the Pledge of Allegiance. Every morning, we'd turn our eyes to the northwest corner of the room, put our little hands over our hearts and repeat this oath:

(I'm second from the left)

I pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America  
And to the republic for which it stands
One nation
Under God
Indivisible
With liberty and justice For all.

The memorizing came, I suppose, from repeating it every day. At first, you have to concentrate hard. You have to think about each and every word to make sure you get it right. There weren't many students in that combination first and second grade classroom. If you messed up, Mrs. Bond might hear you in the dozen or so voices.

Through the years, it could be like many things we say by rote. We may not truly think about the meaning. But there's just something about saying those words in unison with 53,000-plus people that makes me feel the words to the depth of my bones.

 

The Ceremony of Allegiance is as much a part of K-State football games as the coin toss. It gives me the chills - every single time.

So on this Veteran's Day, let's think about our allegiance and where it lies. It's not in the political skirmishes. It's not in the political posturing. It should have the same importance and pride that came when we finally remembered the whole pledge as we stood in our first grade classrooms with our hands placed firmly over our hearts:

One nation
Under God
Indivisible.

On this Veterans' Day, I thank the veterans and the active duty service personnel who protect my right to say the Pledge of Allegiance. It's up to all of us to not just utter the words, but live them.

Flyover prior to the October 17, 2015 K-State game

May we remember what freedom really means.

In a Soldier's Own Words

The Army summed up Oric Neelly's service during World War II in fewer than 100 words:

Radio Operator, High Speed. Served for 36 months in European Theatre of Operations: Africa, Italy, France and Germany, as Radio Operator with 1st Armored Signal Battalion. Received orders from Tank Commander and transmitted them to other tanks in the platoon. For 18 months, worked in Radio Control section of the 7th Army receiving and transmitting itinerary communications in Morse Code. Receives and sends Morse Code at the rate of 20 words per minute. Was also operator in Army and Navy Teletype Communications, which was set up to insure the safe reception and transmission of confidential and secret messages. 

Oric Neelly was my great-uncle, the youngest brother of my Grandpa Shelby Neelly. He was born February 12, 1919, and died June 5, 2014.

Several years ago, Oric's daughter, Brenda, asked her Dad to record some of his memories of World War II. He decided he'd rather write them in his own hand. She transcribed them and compiled them into a hardcover book, "Memoirs of World War II" by Oric C. Neelly.

When Oric died this past June, my brother, Kent, and I sang at the funeral. One of the songs we chose was "America, the Beautiful," in honor of Oric's service to our nation. On this Veteran's Day, I'm sharing just a snippet of his story from the book, which I was privileged to receive from Brenda.

The words of Oric C. Neelly are below:

We boarded ship at Norfolk, Virginia, on or about the 20th of October, 1942. We were at sea for about 18 days. We were dodging submarines or maybe just waiting for D-Day. D-Day being the day the invasion was to start. ...

(I'll insert here: This is not the D-Day we think of. As best I can tell, this would have been part of Operation Torch, the British-American invasion of French North Africa during the North African Campaign of World War II, which started on November 8, 1942).

Back to Oric: There were, I suppose, around six or seven thousand people on board. We were packed in pretty good, bunks stacked on top of one another. ...

The invasion took place on the 8th of November, 1942. The ship pulled in closer to shore and started unloading tank lighters, tanks, half-tracks and all the other equipment. Of course, the battleships and everything else were firing into shore. We were out on deck watching. ...

The ship was listing from side to side ... Being from dry Kansas, I didn't know how to swim. I thought this may be a problem. Anyway, I took off all my clothes and shoes, being just in my shorts and dog tags. I kept my billfold, which was a good thing because after I got into the water, it was a pretty good paddle. I went down a wood and rope ladder that was hanging down the side of the ship away from the fire, but the fire was on both sides of the ship. I got as far away from it as I could and pushed off into the water. My life jacket slipped up my back and stopped at the back of my head, but it kept me above water. Then I started dog-paddling away from the ship. ...

The waves in the ocean were high, not breaking over, but almost. ... I just paddled away from the ship. I never noticed the cold much, but I think it was. I was in the water for about 45 minutes, just getting away from the fire and the ship. There was a Frenchman in a small fishing boat that came along and picked me up and took me in to shore. That was at Fedala, eight miles north of Casablanca.

There were only a few on that little boat. I don't know what made that Frenchman pick me up. There were at least two or three thousand guys in the water at the time. ... The Frenchman took us to the dock and let us off. I regret to this day I didn't get that guy's name, but I didn't. When we got off the little boat, I didn't have any clothes on or shoes. My fair, eyebrows and mustache were all white, burned from the fire, so I must have looked pretty bad. ...

Now that I am ashore, I don't know where to go or what to do without any clothes or shoes. Someone told me to go to First-Aid and told me where it was. My sea legs were so bad I could hardly walk, but I took off. When I came to it, it was just a small house on the side of the road. I went in and there were guys laying everywhere, moaning and groaning really loud and blood everywhere. I looked in the next room. Two guys were throwing dead people out the window. ... I said to myself, "I am not hurt this bad, I am getting out of here." ...

After that, I wandered into a camp of GI's. I told them I was off that ship that was burning out at sea. It burned all night. They took me in and gave me some chow and a blanket. One of the guys was gone, so they gave me his cot to sleep on. I was fixed for the night and safe on shore, which was a good feeling. ...

Now this was just the start of the war. I was over there 2 1/2 years. I can't remember some of it too well, so that's why I'll just tell you the highlights now and again.

I want to insert some sayings and words of wisdom that I have picked up going through life, hoping you will find them interesting or amusing, whatever:

***

The book recounts other memories of Oric's service in the Army. For me, it is more powerful than a history book because I knew the author. 

An honor guard from Fort Riley played "Taps" at Oric's funeral in June.

And, Oric's words, written in his own hand, seem particularly appropriate on this Veteran's Day. 

This just a small portion of the book, but on this Veteran's Day, I thank my Uncle Oric and all the other brave men and women who have served our country. 

Thanks also to Brenda for making sure one veteran's story was told and preserved. It is quite a gift! (More thoughts from Oric's service are here: Who Has Seen the Wind?)

Timing Is Everything

American flags weren't the only things flying on Memorial Day this year.

Strong south winds blew Harvest 2012 onto our South Central Kansas farm over the weekend. Those amber waves of grain could have made you seasick with their tossing and turning on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

It's not out of the ordinary to be cutting wheat on the 4th of July. Back when I was a kid, we were usually cutting wheat on my birthday, June 27, and harvest often extended into early July.

Since Randy and I have been married, harvest seems to have arrived earlier. and we have often been done cutting by my birthday and, certainly, by Independence Day. (Independence Day is rather an apt description of how it feels to be done with harvest, but I digress.)

But, until this year, we've never cut wheat on Memorial Day. We took our first truckloads of wheat to town on Saturday, May 26. Other people began cutting before we did. An area farmer cut one small field north of Stafford and hauled it to town on May 22. It caused a lot of "combine fever" and scrambling by his neighbors to find some dry wheat.

More joined the harvest parade by Friday, May 25, but ours was still too wet to cut. But, by late afternoon on Saturday, the moisture was down to 13.5, and Harvest 2012 on The County Line commenced.

Randy has been farming since he was a sophomore in high school. (Oh my goodness! That's 40 years.) He can't remember cutting wheat before the second week in June.

My parents, who have been farming full-time in Pratt County since the 1950s, think June 7th was their earliest wheat harvest start until this year.

According to a neighbor, Randy's late Great Uncle Glenn Bagley cut wheat on May 30th, though we're not sure what year. Randy rented his first farm ground from his Uncle Glenn, who lived just a half mile to the south of Randy's boyhood home, and we still farm for his daughter, Mary.

We decorated Randy's folks' graves on Friday afternoon with his sister, Kathy, and her girls, Amanda and Emily. (How did I miss getting photos?!)

On Sunday, Randy missed the annual cemetery trek with my family. But I went on the annual excursion to Pratt's Greenlawn Cemetery, as well as Iuka, Pleasant Plains, Prattsburg and Macksville Cemeteries.

It was a first cemetery tour for my great-niece Neelly. She posed by her great-great-grandparents' gravestone, for whom she is named.

She got quite the family history lesson (and I'm sure at 13 months, she'll remember every word of it.) She and Great Grandma Moore posed at Neelly's great-great-great grandpa's grave in the Prattsburg Cemetery in rural Stafford County.

(To read more about the unusual Woodmen of the World grave marker, read this post by blogger Lynda Beck Fenwick.)

But I was back home in time to make my Meals on Wheels delivery to the guys and to see a spectacular sunset over the wheat fields.

More to come on Harvest 2012!

Amber Waves of Grain

In one way, it was an America the Beautiful kind of day yesterday. It included the very definition of the "amber waves of grain" Katharine Lee Bates wrote about in her hymn, "America the Beautiful."

In those 50- to 60-mph wind gusts, you could practically get seasick looking out across the rippling waves of wheat. Those "waves" were definitely tidal wave strength as they danced across the fields. I need a video camera instead of a still camera to do it justice.

But the blowing dirt was not so beautiful across Central America yesterday. Farmers were hoping for calmer "seas" to help the newly planted spring crops grow. Those newly established fields of corn, soybeans and milo were fighting the battle to hold on for dear life in the face of gale force winds.

Randy got our milo and silage planted last week. We were thankful to get about 0.30 inches of moisture last week, some of which was coming down as I took this photo last Wednesday.

We got another 0.30 inches overnight last night when a quick-moving thunderstorm moved through Central Kansas. Thankfully, we didn't get the hail to go along with it, though I know others weren't as fortunate.

Farmers weren't the only ones struggling yesterday. We drove to Wichita to say goodbye to Brent and put him on a plane back to South Carolina for summer classes. The semi drivers yesterday couldn't have been out for a leisurely drive. Even with a car, it was a white-knuckle trip, struggling against the wind.

Let's hope for calmer conditions today.

Need more info about milo planting? Check out this earlier post.

Sea Change

Oh beautiful for spacious skies

For amber waves of grain ...

We aren't to the "amber waves" stage here on the County Line. But what a difference a few days makes!

We got back yesterday after spending a few days in Omaha with Jill & Eric. When we left, I thought maybe - just maybe - I could start to see a little gold through the vibrant green of the wheat fields. But after returning from Big Red country, I could definitely see a yellow tinge to the wheat. There has been a change in the sea of wheat along the country roads of Kansas.

Little more than a month ago, the wheat was still the vibrant green of spring and the heads were still hidden in the stalks.

But now, wheat harvest is on the horizon. It's not breathing down our necks yet, but it's on the horizon, lurking out there somewhere in the future of June.


Poets wax poetically (as poets are wont to do) about the beauty of the ocean - the waves breaking on the beach, the roar as the water washes over rocky cliffs, the bluest of blues hues, the ebb and flow as water surges and retreats.

But I think poet Katharine Lee Bates was onto something. She wrote the words to America the Beautiful back in 1895. Bates, an English professor at Wellesley College, took a train trip to Colorado Springs to teach a summer school course at Colorado College. Several sights along the way inspired her, including the wheat fields of Kansas and the view of the Great Plains from the top of Pike's Peak.

The wheat is our Kansas ocean. It ripples across the prairie with peaks and valleys generated by the southerly Kansas wind. (Use your imagination and you can see the gentle waves in the photo below, though it's hard to capture without a video camera.)


As I walk along the County Line, I hear the whisper of the wheat stalks as they brush against their neighbors. Instead of hearing the screech of gulls at the shore, I hear a symphony of Kansas song birds trill out a morning greeting.

Soon it will be the "amber waves of grain" immortalized in Katharine Bates' beautiful words.

I'd better think poetically now about the beauty. When we are in the midst of the chaos of a Kansas wheat harvest and I'm sitting in a truck on a 100-degree day itching from the grain dust, I may have trouble seeing the beauty.

But for now, I'll delight in my front-row seat along the County Line, glad to call Kansas and its amber waves home sweet home.

On this preface to Memorial Day, here are the words of Katharine Lee Bates' great hymn, America the Beautiful.

Memorial Day should be more than an excuse to fire up the grill or get the boat out on the lake. This is the time to remember the pilgrims of our own families and pay tribute to the sacrifice of our country's patriot veterans, which Bates so eloquently expressed in her lyrics:

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!