A Farmer's Work Is Never Done

I can think of lots of jobs when it seems like you're NEVER done.

• Laundry: You and your family are always wearing something, so no matter if the hampers are empty and you're "caught up," you never really are.
• Meals. There's always the next one to cook. I've been seeing a meme on Facebook of women who lament that nobody ever told them they'd be trying to figure out what to fix for supper for the rest of their lives.
• Picking up toys. It may last during nap time - unless that toddler starts chucking stuffed animals over the crib rails. Then the little darlings wake up and the neatly-arranged toys become a landmine as you step across the living room floor.

So I suppose it's no surprise that farming has its share of similar tasks. You build fence. And then you "un-do" the fence later.

And so it goes ... yet again.

So you might as well find the silver lining - or, in this case - the wispy cotton-candy clouds in a vibrant blue winter sky.

Or you check out the trespassers interloping in the field. (I'm not quick enough to get the photos of deer bounding away. And speaking of deer, their crashes into the electric fence make it so that you're repairing the electric fence all fall and winter anyway. Just another task that never seems to be done.)

So, in reverse fashion, we undo what was done last fall.

Randy hitches a ride on the back of the pickup and then picks up all those posts that he pounded into the ground last fall.

 

Then I follow Randy around as he putts along on the old Ford tractor. (Sometimes in the cold weather, the Ford tractor needs a pull to get it started first.)

And then I do my impression of the Grant Wood American Gothic wife - minus the bun, the black dress and the apron. Unlike in the painting, I hold onto the pitchfork as we wind the wire back on the spools so we can use it again next year.

Also this winter, we worked on permanent fencing at the Ninnescah pasture. I say "we" but it was really Randy. I was there to hold the spool on at the pickup and to be available if he bogged down - literally - in the miry wetlands near the pasture's branch of the river. (Not that I know what I would have done if it happened. Call for help?)

He was looking for ways to deter more escapees this coming summer. We spent the Summer of 2019 trying to figure out where a group of pairs kept getting out. These repairs are designed to at least give them more obstacles. (If you recall, we took the wanderers to the sale barn when they were finally caught.)

He attacks a homemade contraption to the hitch on the pickup to help unroll the barbed wire from the spool.

Excuse the wonkiness of this video that may make you seasick, but it does show how the wire comes off the spool as Randy pulls.

Yes, I made sure the wire and spool stayed on the pickup.

But I also may have had a little time to take photos of the Ninnescah while I waited. (I also had a book. It's a rough job, but I'm definitely the one destined for this one!)

I know I got the cushy job. Randy was having to traipse through cattails and pull those barbs through all the vegetation.

We'll hope it deters any wanderers this coming summer.

This afternoon, we'll pick up more electric fence wire. The sweatshirt may be optional.

Hay, Hay, Hay - Goodbye!

Have any of you been watching Lego Masters on Fox-TV this winter? Randy was more a Lincoln Log kind of guy in his youth, and we had some Tinkertoys at the Moore house. But our granddaughters love Lego Friends, so we've been enjoying the Wednesday night TV series.

Randy does his own form of building and stacking when he loads hay to sell. But the hay bales don't have those handy connective pieces. 

 

During a couple of years of drought, we barely raised enough alfalfa hay and sudan to feed our own cattle herd. Because of a lack of silage we harvested last fall, we sold feeder calves earlier than normal this year. So we had some extra hay we could sell.

Randy negotiated a price with Sebes Hay near Larned. Last December, the hay company picked up the first six loads. At the time, we were busy with other tasks, so Randy helped load the trucks, but he didn't haul it.

Since the beginning of the year, Randy loaded five loads of alfalfa on our own hay trailer and semi and hauled it to Larned. The price this year is "middle of the road," according to Randy. Last year, the price was almost double because of both drought and flooding - too much and too little of a good thing.

 

Photo from from the County Line archives. It was taken from the combine for a bird's-eye view!

After the alfalfa is baled in the summer, we stack it in rows near the road.

 

When we're ready to load the truck, Randy goes to those stacks and removes the bales one or two at a time. Then he places them two-across on the flat-bed trailer.

 

It's kind of like building with Lego. You just keep adding "pieces" to the "design."

 After the bottom rows were in place, he added another layer, positioning the upper deck in the "groove" between two bales.

Randy straps down the bales so they stay in place. It's a good thing he's not afraid of heights!

 

He attempted to use the wind to his advantage, so it could help boost his throw. (It's probably good I don't have a video of this part!)

This series was taken when he was tying down the back bales before adding the top layer.

During the trip, these metal braces also help support the bales on the trailer. 

Randy added Wide Load signs to the front and back of the truck, along with flags on the front and back bales.

Once at Larned, he weighed the truck and then took it to the unloading area. Most of the time, a Sebes Hay employee off-loaded the hay. Then, he weighed the empty truck before returning home. (It didn't work into my schedule to go with him this year. Here's a link to a blog post from a trip to a Dodge City feedyard from 2015 that shows that process.)

Each truck averaged 25 tons, with bales weighing at at an average of 1,500 pounds apiece. Sometimes, we sell even closer to home. A neighbor who usually buys didn't need any this year. So we had a little more to sell.

Now that the hauling job is done, it's on to another project. And, hopefully, we'll again be stockpiling hay during the summer. 

Salt and Light

You are the salt of earth. ... 
You are the light of the world.

From Matthew 5: 13-16

The Scripture lesson from one of Pastor Kim's Sunday sermons has been on repeat for me. Even though it's been almost two weeks since that particular sermon, snapshots of my daily life keep bringing the words back to mind. 

In the pasture, the cows gravitate toward the salt blocks that we provide. Just like we humans, the bovines seem to want to flavor their diets with a bit of salt. As a child, I remember going with my dad on salt block deliveries. A little residue from the salt cube was left behind on my fingertips, and I couldn't resist a secret taste.

The cows also seem to crave the mineral Randy stocks in the pastures and lots. (I don't think the two calves were partaking, but they were cute models anyway.)

I certainly prefer my food with a sprinkling of salt, too, even though my doctor would recommend I limit my sodium intake. 

 

And LIGHT! From the time the morning creases the night's darkness ...

 

... until the setting sun ...

 

... we are reminded of the value and power of light.

Feeding hay at sunrise

Then, as if I needed more confirmation, last week's message on Transfiguration Sunday also centered around light - or, more appropriately Light. 

As I watch the sunrises and the sunsets from my country roads, I'm often reminded of that Sunday School song I learned in the Byers United Methodist Church basement, "This Little Light of Mine." I later taught it to my kids and others in my Joyful Noise choir at Stafford. Though the message is designed as a catchy children's tune with cute actions, it's just as relevant in my adult life - if only I take time to think about it.

Sunset scene looking south

In the song and in Matthew 5, Jesus tells his listeners that they are the to be the light of the world. They cannot be hidden.

We, too, are called to influence what is around us. Our faith shouldn't just remain inside. It should overflow and provide the seasoning and reflect God's light in the world around us.

Shine, people of God, shine!

Do not hide your light....

Take your worship out of these doors.

Be gracious, merciful, and righteous.

You are the light of the world. Shine! 

From our church's benediction 2 weeks ago

Ash Wednesday began our Lenten journey yesterday. While Facebook these days often seems to divide rather than unite, I saw this graphic on several of my friends' Facebook pages:

To me, fasting from these things will make more of a difference in my life than giving up a little chocolate. 

Jesus, allow my faith to flavor and illuminate every­thing I do and say every day. Amen.

Flip for Pancakes: International Pancake Day

It's always a good day to flip for pancakes. But if you need an excuse to celebrate pancakes, International Pancake Day is today - Tuesday, February 25. 

Pancake Day is a moveable feast whose date is determined by Easter. It's celebrated exactly 47 days before Easter Sunday (April 12 this year).
 
It seems there's a day for every food these days. There are days delighting in doughnuts. There are days for sandwiches, hamburgers and hot dogs. Pie gets more than one day. But Pancake Day is especially important in Liberal, Kansas, and Olney, England. For the past 71 years, the women of the two communities have raced down the streets of their respective communities, flipping pancakes and running against the clock and each other. The race is always on Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday. It's the only race of its kind in the world.

"Shrove" is not a thing, but a verb. "Shrive" (shrove, shriven) comes from the Old English verb scrfan, "to decree, decree after judgment, impose a penance upon, hear the confession of," according to the dictionary. Shrove Tuesday is a day to reflect, to seek penance and get ready for Lent.

In Olney, the Pancake Race tradition dates back to 1445. Legend has it that a woman was busy making pancakes and using up cooking fats, which were forbidden during Lent at that time. Hearing the church bells ring to announce the Shrove Tuesday service, she grabbed her head scarf and ran to the church, with pancake-filled skillet in hand. In following years, neighbors joined the race to the church. The first to arrive collected a Kiss of Peace from the bell ringer.

Photo from the International Pancake Day Facebook page: Liberal's Billie Warden crosses the finish line in 1950. Billie won the local race with a time of 1:18 but lost to Olney's Florence Callow, who finished in 1:10.4.

The international race with Liberal began in 1950, when Liberal Jaycee President R.J. Leete saw a photo of the English race in Time magazine and then contacted Olney, challenging their women to race against the women of Liberal.

Racers must still wear a head scarf and apron. Each runner flips her pancake at the starting signal and again as she crosses the finish line to prove she still has her pancake after running the 415-yard course.

Photo from the International Pancake Day Race Facebook page

 According to the book, America Celebrates! A Patchwork of Weird & Wonderful Holiday Lore, some superstitions have evolved among Liberal racers:

• It is considered good luck to carry a past winner's skillet in the race or wear a past winner's apron.
• One year, the stack of concrete pancakes marking the starting point of the race was stolen. This was considered a bad omen, but the stack was later returned.
• Although the women practice running 415 yards, it is considered bad luck to run the official race course during the practice sessions.

I flip for pancakes anytime, not just on International Pancake Day. So I decided to try out a new recipe when Kinley and Brooke were here last week. I love to eat out for breakfast, but we don't get to do it all that often. (Let me re-phrase that: I don't eat out that much for breakfast. Randy meets his buddies at Joan's Cafe at least once a week.)  

I'm an advocate of breakfast-for-supper and so are the girls, so if you want to celebrate Shrove Tuesday in a way that's been a tradition since 1455, here's the recipe. And you don't even have to wear a head scarf or run a race to enjoy them!

Whether you make pancakes or not, I'll leave you with the traditional blessing bestowed upon the winner - whether it be in Liberal or Olney:

The Peace of the Lord be always with you.

 Banana Oat Pancakes

Adapted from Food Fanatic 

Serves about 6

3/4 cup old-fashioned oats
2 medium bananas, mashed
1 1/2 cups milk
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tbsp. brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 egg
3 tbsp. vegetable oil
1/4 cup chopped pecans (opt.)
Butter for griddle or skillet
Syrup, additional nuts and fruit for serving, if desired

In a medium bowl, combine oats, bananas and milk. Set aside to let the oats soak and soften.

Preheat pancake griddle or skillet over medium high heat.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Beat the egg and oil into the wet oatmeal mixture, then pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture. Add nuts, if desired, and stir until just combined.

Butter the preheated surface of the griddle or skillet. Use about 1/4 cup batter per pancake. Wait until the entire exposed surface of the pancake is bubbly and the edges start to look as though they are set, then flip the pancake. Cook the second side and remove pancakes to a plate or a chafing dish to keep warm.

Garnish the pancakes with more chopped pecans and/or fruit and serve with your favorite syrup.