Like A Good Neighbor

"Like a good neighbor, Gary is there."

I can't speak from personal experience for the insurance company that originally used the jingle, but there is truth in advertising for my variation.

Gary Hornbaker and his crew (C.W. Feril, Tom Turner and Nick Mansel) helped us harvest wheat the last couple of days. Gary is the definition of a good neighbor.

When the ice storm took power lines down in 2007, we were without electricity for 12 days. Miraculously, Gary still had power, though he lives less than 3 miles away. He even gave up his bedroom so that we could stay at his house. We eventually got a generator and didn't take advantage of his hospitality for the whole nearly two-week stint.

The 2007 storm may have resulted in one of my all-time favorite photos, but it definitely wasn't a favorite time!

 So, did it surprise me when Gary was willing to cut a good portion of our remaining wheat? Nope, it didn't. You can hear the story of the Good Samaritan told from the pulpit or study it in a Sunday School class. But I know someone who lives it. Yes, he was done with his own harvest. But he sure wasn't done with a dozen other things that need to be done during summer on the farm.

He could have crossed to the other side of the road. But he didn't. We might not have been "bleeding" ourselves, but the combine had its own "ambulance" ride to the Straub's dealership in Hutchinson.

I don't really understand all the ins and outs of what's wrong with our combine.  There is a bearing out on the feeder house drive. To repair it, you have to remove one of the massive tires to get the shaft out. Some other mystery part ended up on the elevator grate when Jake dumped one of our loads at the Zenith branch of the Kanza Co-op. The guys still don't know where it came from, and Randy hasn't heard that verdict from Straub's yet. So, no matter that Randy had made two trips to Hutchinson, one trip to Great Bend and I made one parts run to Pratt, we were finally to the place that we couldn't limp along any longer. We faced facts: The combine wasn't going to be fixed on the farm.

There's a sinking in your stomach when you realize that part of a wheat crop is going to sit in the field while you wait on a combine repair. Wheat is our primary crop. It's what pays the bills around here. Ripe wheat sitting in a field doesn't improve with age, unlike fine wine.

Gary cut 291 acres of our wheat. Before all this happened, we had already scheduled a custom cutter to cut wheat at a location we call "up north." It's quite a distance for our little farm trucks to haul the 30-mile round trip  to Zenith, so we've had it custom harvested the last few years. Crockett Harvesting will cut it on Friday, so we're still not done with Harvest 2013. But we are oh-so-much closer than we would have been if we would have had to wait for our combine to be fixed.

Monday evening, Gary was cutting across the road from our house. This summer, I've taken several trips across the road to photograph the sunset. I'd been watching the sun slide down the power poles like a quarter in one of those cylindrical banks.

I'd been thinking about the photos I'd take when we cut the wheat there. The combine with cab lights gleaming would be silhouetted against that beautiful Kansas sky.

Well, I didn't think I could call a Good Samaritan to tell him to turn on his cab lights (like I would have my husband). But, it was still a mighty pretty picture - for a whole lot more reasons than a sunset sky. (And, for the record, I'm sure Gary would have turned on his lights if I'd asked.)

And, I knew it was only a matter of time that the lights would have to come on as Gary cut long into the night (or, more accurately, the early morning).

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky changed again, and so did the harvest scene as he rounded the power pole yet again, this time with lights cutting the dusk. I think there's a metaphor there somewhere.

Of course, we are paying Gary for his unscheduled custom harvesting job. However, no check and no amount of homemade bierocks and pasta salad (or grilled hamburgers and baked beans) toted to the harvest field a couple of evenings could begin to say a heartfelt thanks. His willingness to help his neighbors is, quite simply, priceless.

Remember that advertising jingle? Well, I've also been mixing in a chorus of Joe Diffie's song, John Deere Green. I grew up with green machinery. It's been 32 years of seeing red (so to speak) on the County Line. I'm sure my Dad and brother will have a comment or two about that.

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I'm linked today to Jennifer Dukes Lee's Tell His Story. Click on the link to check out what bloggers of faith are talking about today!

A Not-So-Innocent Question

"Boy, that smells good," my hubby said when he walked through the door at noon. He barely had enough time to breathe in the aroma from the bubbly, baking casserole before he asked, "What are you doing this afternoon?"

OK. I've been doing this farm wife thing a year or two (or 29, if you want to get specific). I was pretty sure he didn't want a rundown of all the things I was planning to cross off my to-do list in the afternoon.

"Well, it sounds like it's not going to be what I planned to do, right?" I asked my favorite farmer.

So, what were my clues? First off, I have a hot noon meal ready pretty much every day when he walks through the door. So it usually smells pretty good around here (... if I do say so myself. Of course, in this instance, I don't have to say it myself because he said it for me. OK, back to the story ...)

Secondly, he doesn't usually want a detailed list of my every activity planned for the day.

So when he asked, "What are you doing this afternoon?" I knew it was Farmer Code for "I have a job for you this afternoon."

Am I a detective or what? No, I am simply a savvy Farm Wife who has been around the section a time or two.

In this case, I wasn't getting sent around the section. Instead, I was off to retrieve a swather part in Hutchinson. The swather had a major breakdown last Friday.

Here is another inevitable fact of farm life: Major breakdowns are prone to happen on a holiday weekend, when there is absolutely no hope of the problem being solved before the mechanics leave for an extra day off.

This was no small problem. It had to be hauled to Hutchinson in the back of the cattle trailer because it was too long for a pickup bed. Randy took it to Hutch last Friday, and he was surprised and thrilled that it was already repaired and ready to be picked up.

He was busy planting. Jake was busy working ground. So Farm Wife to the rescue!

I am not vain. But I do draw the line at scaring the poor guys at the Case dealership with my appearance. With no warning about my impending trip, I had not showered after my hour-long workout. My hair resembled the Stick 'Em Up Hair doll I've written about before (Kim's County Line, March 16, 2010: A Living Doll).

I realize I probably would not be as "fragrant" as the farmers covered in oil and grease who had just wrestled with a tractor or swather and were lined up at the parts counter in dire need of just the right part.

But, still, the parts guys do know me by name, so I did the best I could with a little makeup and a little water.

The next problem? I am just fine with driving the pickup and trailer. Hooking it up by myself is another story.

"They'll help you hook it up," Randy assured me.

"Have you personally talked to them and asked if they could do that?" I asked.

Another Farm Wife 101 Rule: If at all possible, have your farmer do the negotiations. It is best if he smooths the path for you. It is best when he talks directly to the parts guy about what part he wants. It is best if the appropriate part is already laid on the counter with your name on it by the time you arrive. It is best that your biggest job is signing your name on the bottom of the sales ticket.

If that sounds like I'm not upholding my end of the "I am woman, hear me roar" mantra from the women's lib movement, that's OK. Everyone is happier with this scenario.

If this transaction has not occurred, it is inevitable the parts guy will ask a question for which there is no answer in your vocabulary. Sorry, but that's the truth.

Cell phones are a great boon to the Farm Wife. But they are most beneficial when your farmer husband has used HIS to call ahead and make sure he is getting what he wants.

And yes, a nice man did help me hook up the trailer. I won't say it was without challenges. It's tough to back up with the fuel tank in the pickup blocking the view. But my helper adjusted for this obstacle. I have been reading male hand signals since I was a little farm girl in Pratt County, so we got the job done.

Yes, I went to Hutchinson yesterday afternoon. My trip did not include a stop at my favorite location - the Hutchinson Public Library. It did not include errands at WalMart, another usual "must do" when going to the "big city."

But I did get to see my friends at Case.

And I did make my husband happy.