Stormy Weather ... and Attitudes

I used HDR in editing this photo (just FYI).

I was off on a parts run to Hutchinson when I got the dreaded phone call: "No need to hurry home. We just got rain, wind and hail where we were cutting wheat."

It was all I could do not to cry at the parts counter of Straub's. Yes, harvest is yet again halted in its tracks.

While I can't compete with Mr. Optimistic, in general, I'm a fairly positive person. But the stormy weather is creating some stormy attitudes on the County Line right about now. We started Wheat Harvest 2016 on June 15. Here we are - two weeks later - and we are a little more than halfway done.

At this little space on the internet, I try to leave a bit of beauty and light through photos and words. But there are times when some honesty is in order, too. I can't do a darn thing about the weather. Well, I guess I can complain about it, though it doesn't do any good.

The stormy sky as a backdrop for the Zenith elevator made for a pretty spectacular photo as I turned toward home. OK, there's a positive.

I know that I'm supposed to be all thrilled that it rained for our fall crops. And I am thankful for that. But let's get real: We are wheat farmers.

The current price of wheat at my local co-op is $3.26 per bushel. During the 9-month life cycle of this crop, we've spent money on seed, fertilizer, herbicide and fungicide. Throw machinery costs, fuel costs, labor costs, insurance premiums and land costs into the mix.

I'll tell myself we're breaking even. I'm not sure that's true. But it's why it's even more important to get it out of the field and into the elevator. After rain (and hail in one location), the wheat keeps sagging lower to the muddy ground, making it even more of a challenge to cut. 

We decided not to have any of our acres custom harvested this year because of purchasing the new-to-us combine at a farm sale this spring - and because the price is so low.

I read an article last week that said the price of wheat on July 1, 1976, was $3.50. Yes, you read that right: 1976, 40 years ago, the price of wheat was higher than it is today. Can you think of anything else that has gone down in price in the past 40 years? Me neither.

This wheat stalk must be the optimist in the bunch!

While at the co-op website to check the price, I looked at the weather forecast for the next few days:
Wednesday, 55% chance of precipitation
Thursday, 41%
Friday, 80%
Saturday,60%

On Monday, Randy fought mud as he slogged through the wheat field across the road, finally giving up and moving to what he hoped was a drier location. It's not drier any more. Randy was not the only thing that got soaked as he tarped the trucks yesterday. So did the wheat and the ground upon which it stands.

Sunshine after the storm went through. We only got 0.20" at home, but that's where he was fighting mud already.

So ... back to the fall crops: The rain was good for the corn. However, since we are exclusively dryland farmers, we don't have a large amount of corn or milo planted. Wheat is far and away our bread and butter - pun intended.

The corn is tasseling and pollinating now. The cooler temperatures are beneficial to that process, too.

Silver lining? I suppose. But we have a long time until harvest on corn, and I'm not counting on anything at the moment. 

Rant over? Maybe. I'll try to be back to my more cheerful self the next time. I do have some pretty photos to share from a 4-wheeler check of the Ninnescah Pasture during another rain delay. The rains nourish the pasture grasses and the cattle look great. Maybe reviewing those photos will lower my blood pressure. Or maybe I need another trip to listen to the water rush over the dam at the pasture.

Putting Things in Perspective

May 2014 - Kinley & Grandpa take a trip to the barn.

Perspective is a great teacher. Yesterday, I showed photos of a grand old barn that fell after 105 years as a community landmark. On Facebook, I have seen photos of house roofs blown away and semi trailers tossed like Matchbook cars amid crumpled grain bins and hog barns. Some of our friends and church members still don't have electricity, while we only lost ours for a few hours.

So, I hesitate to talk about the damage to barns we rent. But, one of the goals for Kim's County Line is to have a record of our life here on the Stafford/Reno County line. So, I guess I'll do it anyway, knowing how blessed we are that the barns are still standing -- and that I can power up my computer to write this in the comfort of my home. 

We rent a barn and corrals just to the east of our home. Though we don't know the exact date, it was probably built around 1938. Since it's only a few hundred yards away from the house, we use those facilities for calving out heifers. It makes it easier to check on the heifers, who are giving birth for the first time. It's also where we installed our calving pen, a contraption that helps us if we have to assist a heifer during the birthing process.

Just like most of the barns in this part of the country, it's been standing a long time, and it isn't in the best shape anymore. But the storm blew the west door into the alleyway. The guys will have to figure out a fix or it will be a bit colder during the 2016 calving season next winter. 

The top of the barn is definitely bowing more after Thursday night's winds.

It's where we load out cows and calves from this location, so the guys will have some work to do before we start taking them to pasture in early May.

Another barn door blew off at the location we call "the round top." The barn at that location is even older, probably 75 to 100 years old.

It's also a place where our cattle can find shelter during the winter.

Our semi filled with hay was parked near the round top, and it lost a mirror when pelted with hail. But, again, we were fortunate. Just a mile across the section to the west, another old barn blew into pieces.

Part of it and its contents ended up in our wheat field.

But, as I said, perspective is a good barometer. We are grateful for minimal damage at the County Line.

Goodbye, Old Friend

I regularly travel down the Zenith Road. I'm usually flying down it in my car in my quest to get somewhere when I should have left 5 minutes earlier. (I have a tendency to try to get "just one more thing" done before I leave home.)

Occasionally, I'm taking it at a more sedate pace, pulling a fertilizer trailer or steering a loaded grain truck.

But a familiar landmark that always signaled my proximity to home is in ruins after a Thursday night wind storm. The barn at the old Cotton Volker place fell victim to Mother Nature's fury.

That old barn revealed a lot about rural Kansas. We call it the Cotton Volker place, even though it's been 18 years since Cotton passed away. (It's the same way with some of our farm ground. It hasn't been owned by someone for years. But we still call it "the Palmer place.") That's just the way things are in rural Kansas.

 

The barn was built in 1910, so it was a landmark for many for the past 105 years. Its unique design made it handy to use as a location marker for friends or delivery people who were unfamiliar with rural living. I'd often say, "On the Zenith Road, you'll see a big, old stone barn on the west side. Go another mile north and then turn right."

The barn was constructed of concrete stones. They were mixed, poured into molds on site and then erected when they cured. Some of the barn builder's ancestors still live and farm in the community. And that tells the story of rural Kansas, too.  

Cotton Volker was born in the old house at the same farmstead on June 23, 1907, so he would have been 3 when the barn was built in 1910. He died in 1997 the same room where he was born.

"We all feel a great loss in the barn. We had many times of great fun in the hayloft," said his daughter, Nancy.

Besides using it as a landmark, the barn has been my silent partner to document life in this part of the world.

It was a silhouette at sunset ...

It reflected the old windmill tower in its window ...

It was ready for a frosty landscape shot on a cold Sunday morning. Yes, I made Randy stop, even though we were likely cutting the time close on our way to church.

The storm happened around 11:30 PM on Thursday, April 2, waking us from a dead sleep. The next morning was Good Friday.

Besides the huge pile of stones and wood where the barn collapsed, debris flew across the road into the ditch and onto the fields. 

As I stopped on the road and took photos, I saw nails and screws scattered on the road. I picked up a bunch, hoping to save my tires and those of my neighbors.

But as I thought about those nails on that Good Friday, I couldn't help but think about Christ, nailed to a cross. No, the "death" of a big, old barn doesn't compare to my Savior's suffering and death.

There will likely not be a "resurrection" of the barn. Even if a new barn or storage building is built, it won't be constructed like that century-old landmark. But amid the rubble, I saw the signs of spring. Purple henbit colored the ditch. And even though it's a weed, it reminded me of new life on a sad day.

The old trees that surround the homestead are also blossoming for spring.

The new life framed a scene of destruction.

And that's the message of Easter, isn't it? That's the Good News.

My email devotional from Guideposts on Easter Sunday seemed to fit:

It’s easy to crave resuscitation — to want God to return life to the way it was before — but Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He doesn’t just restore. He transforms. Death can take away, but God gives new life. Christ is resurrection and life!

The storm on Thursday night left destruction behind across Central Kansas. But I've heard story after story of neighbors helping neighbors clean up debris. Power crews spent their Easter weekends in bucket trucks -- not with Easter buckets -- to restore power. And that is the story of transformation, too. Thanks be to God!