Life Is Sow-Sow

Life is sow-sow.  Sow some wheat in this field. Move to another field and sow some wheat there.

Actually, around here, we call the process "planting wheat," but there are those who refer to it as "sowing wheat."

Randy began planting our 2021 winter wheat crop on September 21. He finished up on October 6. For the 2021 crop year, 1,486 of our acres will be devoted to wheat. That's down from last year, when we harvested 1,575 wheat acres, the most we'd ever planted. In 2019, our wheat acres were down because of prevented planting.

We didn't get off to an auspicious start this year. The first day, we had a major breakdown with the tractor used to disc ahead of the planter. I made three or four trips to the field - which, of course, was the furthest location away from the farmstead.  (Kind of like childbirth, I've forgotten the actual number now.) I made a parts run to Hutchinson. Thankfully, I didn't have to make a parts run to Omaha, where we eventually found the part. 

"We'll be glad to pay overnight shipping," I told the clerk, while trying to keep my frazzled farmer calm after a frustrating by-phone and on-line search from cell phone never-never-land.

Thankfully, the parts - though important - were small. And, as I told Randy, overnight shipping was worth every penny. (I must admit I'm glad the parts weighed ounces, not pounds. But still ...)

As is always the case, there have been frustrating breakdowns along the way. But there have been bright spots, too. Literally.

On the first day of October, I rushed out the door after glimpsing the sky through our tree-lined farmstead. I drove to an unobstructed vantage point for the perfect way to start the day.

It's amazing to me how the sky changes in just the seconds it takes to travel a little further down the road. It's kind of a reminder that life can be like that, too. It can change in seconds, so I'd better appreciate living it - breakdowns and all.

But back to the facts. Here in Central Kansas, we plant winter wheat. It's planted in the fall and then goes dormant during the cold months of winter before coming out of its "hibernation" and growing again next spring, then maturing for a June (or July) harvest. 

We saved some of our 2020 crop in bins on the farm to use as seed wheat. It's binned during harvest, and then we load it into the truck to take to Miller Seed Farms near Partridge for cleaning. They treat it with a fungicide, which helps protect the small wheat plants from disease. It's also treated with an insecticide which helps keep bugs at bay. (Those treatments are what gives the wheat its pink tinge.) Then we auger it back into storage bins until it's time to plant. (Photo above.)

When it's time for planting, we load the binned wheat into a grain truck and deliver it to the field, where Randy uses an auger system to transfer it from the truck to the drill.

 

We also buy some certified seed from Miller Seed Farm to plant for our own seed wheat for the following year. This helps keep the purity in the seed. 

 

This year, Randy bought Bob Dole and Zenda for our certified seed wheat.

Since I'm the one who transported the bagged seed wheat from Miller's to home, I like to joke that I chauffeured Bob Dole.

I also fulfilled another vital job - sack stomping. It's the Kansas farm wife equivalent of grape stomping. That way, we could keep the sacks corralled until we could dispose of them.

Another of my duties was worrying as Randy climbed to the top of the slick wheat truck bed to sweep kernels down to the bottom as we finished up the final field.

OK, worrying wasn't in my job description from Randy. I was supposed to be augering the remaining wheat into the drill as Randy scooped.

Thankfully, we both completed our tasks without incident. 

As with every planting season, I think about the optimism that seems to be part of the fabric of every farmer. They put a seed in the ground and then wait like a kid on Christmas morning. 

 

They slow down as they pass a planted field, just waiting for that first glimmer of green.

And sprinkled in among the breakdowns and the frustrations, there are the beautiful skies that remind us to be thankful for each day and moment.

And we wait for yet another miracle - 9 months in the making.