Farmers live on the edge

"I hadn't had a bite to eat since yesterday, so Jim he got out some corn-dodgers and buttermilk, and pork and cabbage and greens—there ain't nothing in the world so good when it's cooked right—and whilst I eat my supper we talked and had a good time. . . .We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft."

--from Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn--

the cows, theys a comin home

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

A Day at the Beach

A day like any other, early to rise, a fresh brewed, rich, dark cup of coffee; then, to the field to move irrigation lines. Back to the house, another cup of coffee before going back to the fields; but, a question awaits, "Can we spend the day at the beach?" Changing plans, deferred work plans.

Grabbing essentials (and not so essentials) we all pile in to head West. The Corridor is shady, cool, and full of life. Stop in at Mo's for chowder - then on to the Aquarium. Small ones enthralled with aquatic life, sea mammals, and the adventure. Older ones pleased with the smiling faces and excitement of the experience, new and one of discovery of the young.

Now the sand, the wind, the salt air. As the beach expands before us, look up. A Bald Eagle, wings spread, floating motionless on the current, backed by a translucent moon in the blue mid-day sky. Sand pipers dive into the stream catching tiny fish to take back to the fledglings in the nest. Down the beach, the decomposing carcass of a sea lion. Driftwood lies everywhere. The mini-gas grill cooking cabobs, a small wood fire for smoors, and the glorious richness of the setting sun. A trek across the foot bridge reveals a beaver in the pool created in the stream, munching leasurely, pausing to look up, then back to munching, unthreatened. As the fire fades, time has passed. It is time to load-up and return home.

The darkened hi-way, deep richness of the Corridor without light, and the slumbering, wiped out kids, dreaming of their day. Parents nodding off, remembering the day's events. Pulling up to the house, Home - respite, time to crawl into bed and reflect. For one there is the task of unpacking, cleaning up, and pausing with the visual images of this day.

It is a day that will last. It is a day that will be different for each one who experienced it. For me, it is a fantastic day.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

A Farmer's Life
It is an amazing thing watching a newborn calf. It attempts to stand for the first time, wabbles, falls back down; but, doesn't give up. To see it strive for nurishment as it attempts and then succeeds to suck and becomes excited at the taste of warm milk is its own success story.

Watching a seed, or multitudes of seeds heave the soil as new plants emerge seeking light is a true mystery. Do they yearn? Imagine the creative genius behind that simple seed.

New mown grass and clover in the hay field doesn't stop while the hay is raked, baled, and hauled to the barn. There is new growth, the new crop pushing on. You see no pause, no respite. Work is never done; growth must be continuous.

Such is a Farmer's Life! It is the most gratifying of vocations. After long days, short nights, relief comes. It is in reflection, images, scattered thoughts. Then Work, then play like the young calf experiencing a new world.


gril's strange views

This is a strange way my girls see the world. I guess it is time for the "old man" to get with the times. Some stuff just doesn't compute. Some is extraneous BS (bovine scatology). But we will see where it takes us.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

the Truth of the Muffin Snatcher

While traveling through Western Europe with my daughter and my wife just under five years ago, we bought a few McMuffins from McDonalds. There were two: one chocolate and one blueberry. My wife and daughter got bored as we waited about an hour for our train. When I went to find the bathroom a few minutes before the train was to arrive, my daughter convinced my wife to let her eat part of the muffins.

A few hours later, as we sat on the train with our stomachs grumbling, I grabbed for the sack of muffins. It was then that I discovered that the muffins were topless. She had eaten at least HALF of each muffin top. I was appalled. Instead of lashing out as I have been known to do, I grabbed my journal. In it I wrote: "One chocolate muffin. One blueberry muffin. SNITCHED!"

Friday, July 17, 2009

This is the blog of the Old Man on the Farm.