All I Want for Christmas

Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas. It is festive with all the snow on the ground, decorations galore and Christmas music on the radio. I must admit that I am not feeling it. We still have crops out in the fields and cows that need those crops to be harvested so they can graze those fields. I am afraid it just isn’t going to feel much like Christmas until we get all the work done. That alone is really bumming me out because I really love everything about Christmas and the season.

Of course, those Christmas decorations really have nothing to do with the season, most of the retail stores put their Christmas displays up sometime after the Fourth of July. No, most years, the Christmas Season starts after Thanksgiving, or at lest it does for me. I like to enjoy my holidays one at a time and I refuse to move the timeline up. This year has everything discombobulated. Normally, my goal is to have the cows and the sheep in their winter resting spots by Thanksgiving. Instead I spent Thanksgiving afternoon on the combine. An interesting side note to this is that I have never felt better the evening of Thanksgiving than I did this year.

In any case I am feeling just a little bit stressed (that is an understatement) lately and the weather gives me the hives. I know we are all wishing for a white Christmas but a week of sixty-degree temperatures would be the top of my Christmas list this year. I don’t want to seem greedy but two weeks or even three would be best, but I would settle for one week of warm, dry weather. I don’t think that is too much to ask for.

It is that time of the year when I am asked for my Christmas wish list. It is also this time when I realize I have reached the point in my life where Christmas gifts just aren’t that important. Yes, I have become my parents. I remember the frustration of asking Mom and Dad what they wanted for Christmas and getting the response of “nothing”. I tell my kids that I really don’t need anything and what I want, you can’t afford. But just in case, a new tractor, pickup or combine would be at the top of my list.

I guess I have gotten to the point in my life where if I need something, I go get it and that makes my wish list to Santa Claus much more abstract. Let me give you some examples. I already shared my number one wish and that was for dry, warm weather. If anyone knows how to make that happen, I would be eternally grateful. I don’t need much, just the nice fall days I was shorted around the end of October and the beginning of November. I bet that would be a popular gift with the farmer and rancher types this year.

I would also like a decent price for my crops. I am not going all out and asking for fifteen-dollar beans and seven-dollar corn just a little something above the cost of production would be nice. If that happens, we can knock the new tractor, combine and truck off my list. If I could make a little money, I could buy them myself. Just this week I had some work done on my house, the carpenter joked that he would like to be paid like a farmer. I said, sure, you owe me a hundred bucks.

Next on my list would be things that worked like they should, started when I wanted them to and tires that held air. Really, I don’t think that is too much to ask. To go along with that I would like my animals to cooperate, little things like staying where I put them and not getting sick. Those all seem like simple things on my list to Santa Claus, hopefully the old guy can come through with them.

My Christmas wish list can be summed up by three things. I want good weather, good markets and good luck. Maybe that list with a new tractor, combine and truck doesn’t sound so daunting after all compared to the three things farmers and ranchers have absolutely no control over.  We aren’t hard to buy for, we are impossible to please.

Call me the Grinch but I will continue to sit here in the glow of our Christmas tree, drinking hot chocolate, listening to Christmas music but not really in the mood. I guess all I really want for Christmas is to be caught up. Its funny but my whole family agrees as to what they want, a father/husband who is not so whiny. Let’s hope we all get what we want.        

Anniversary Fail

To say that I have never been the romantic type is probably an understatement. I freely admit that gift giving is something that doesn’t come very easy to me and thank goodness that Jennifer is willing to overlook this minor defect in my personality. To be honest I probably used up all my romantic ideas in the first month or so of our courtship. After all I am the guy who sent her balloons and red hots for our first Valentine’s Day. I told you I was bad at the whole romantic notions’ thing.

However, this year I out did myself when it came to our anniversary. I knew it was November, I just didn’t think it was the middle of November yet. In my defense with the late harvest I have been more distracted and absent minded than usual (and that is saying something). That is why I was shocked when our daughter reminded me on Saturday that our anniversary was on Sunday.

What was I going to do? At this point I couldn’t get away to get a present or even a card, I was caught. The only thing left to do was to just man up and admit my failure. A friend once told me that the secret to a happy marriage was the phrase, “I am a man; therefore, I am wrong, and I am sorry.’ Never were more true words spoken and never have they been put to the test like they were for my anniversary.

I guess I failed to mention that not only had I not done anything for our anniversary, but I had made plans to wean calves and vaccinate them (after going to church that morning, of course). I had the help all lined up, there was no going back on it. That meant going out for dinner was out of the question and it was on Sunday so having flowers sent to her work was also not going to happen. Things were looking bad for the home team.

Sunday morning came, and Tatum wished us a Happy Anniversary and asked Jennifer what I got her. Jennifer thought about it for a minute and pointed at the three new, shiny, red feed bunks in the yard and said, “I guess that is what I am getting this year.” She went on to explain that with all the craziness of this fall and things being backed up that she had not gotten me anything for our anniversary either.

Its funny how often I am reminded of how lucky I am to have a wife that tolerates all my shortcomings and accepts me for who I am. I am sure that working calves and getting feed bunks were quite a way down her anniversary wish list, but she went about the day like that was exactly what she wanted and where she wanted to be. I guess the easy answer is that the life of a farm or ranch couple is like that, no matter what the calendar says, work must come first.

Maybe the fact that I realized and worried about my lack of anything special for our anniversary was enough. I guess over the past twenty plus years, Jennifer has learned that it is the thought that counts. I don’t profess to be an expert on anyone else’s marriage and I would be a terrible counselor, but I do think that I have learned a little bit. Gifts and nights out on the town are important but its not what makes a marriage strong.

Working side by side to build something, making a life together and sharing in the ups and downs are what makes our marriage work. I know I frustrate Jennifer to no end and the disappointments are many, but she takes it all in stride and for that I am the one who is blessed. While she deserves so much better than feed bunks and a date working calves, I am not sure she would have it any other way.

I intend to make it all up, when and if this harvest ever gets done and we finally get all the cows out on stalks. In the end, it probably ended up being one of the best anniversaries we have had. The weather was great, the cattle working went smooth and both kids were home to help. To top it off the feed bunks worked magnificently, and the calves loved them. Most importantly I was reminded of how lucky I am.

As a side not, whether I out did myself, however, is up for debate. I have gone on from the balloon and red-hot debacle to achieve some awesome failures when it comes to holidays and romantic moments. Feed bunks for an anniversary present is a doozy, except there was the Mother’s Day that we sheared sheep. That one is hard to top.

Thankful Thanksgiving

I guess its Thanksgiving? With crops to harvest yet and cows to get out on stocks the work end of things seems more like October but the cold and snow make it seem more like January. When I look at the calendar, it tells me that this week is Thanksgiving whether I think it is or not. I have been threatening to go out and work after we finish lunch on Thanksgiving, but I know better, that and it’s supposed to rain.

Every year I like to take a little time to reflect on my life at Thanksgiving and do exactly what the holiday was designed for, to give thanks. I am not going to lie, this year it is a little harder for those of us in agriculture to give thanks, its no secret that this has been a tough year for most of us. Between the markets and the weather, it seems as though every time we get back up, we get knocked right back down. On the surface it may not seem like we have much to be thankful for.

However, we all know better than that. Even with these tough times I feel more thankful than ever to be an agriculture producer. Tough times have a way of reminding you why you chose to farm or ranch, it makes you look at your soul and remember what makes you get up every morning and face the challenges. I have been a part of agriculture all my life, so I guess the eternal optimism is just a part of me. Sure, there are dark moments when we all question what we are doing and wonder what else is out there. Those moment are fleeting and are always replaced with a determination to keep on plowing forward no matter what.

Tough times also remind us that farming and ranching is a family affair. I am not just talking about our blood relatives but also our agriculture community. Our neighbors and friends who are always there with advice and help, ready at any moment to jump in and help. More importantly they are there to talk to, vent when things are going well and to help celebrate the good times. Friends and neighbors are one of the best parts of the lifestyle we all chose.

We do have a lot to be thankful for in agriculture, even in these tough times, I know I wouldn’t trade my life for anything else. I would like to think I could do something else and make more money, but money is not what happiness is about. Could I find a job where I would have more free time and maybe a weekend or holiday off? I am sure I could, but we all know that agriculture is not about a job, it is a way of life that most of us were born into and some of us chose.

I am truly blessed and very thankful to be farming even in this most challenging time. I grew up wanting to be just like Dad and Grandpa working the soil, tending my animals and growing food. Time and years have not done anything but increase my love for what I do. It has been tough, and I am sure there are many more tough days ahead of me too. I also am equally sure there are some good days in my future too and it is those days I will cherish. I am thankful to be able to be a part of agriculture and even if it suddenly came to a crashing halt, I would not have traded or changed a moment.

I am thankful to work with my family each day on farms that the generations before me sacrificed and paid for with their blood sweat and tears. I am thankful to look forward to the future and have the hope that I can some day pass this legacy to the next generation and with any luck I will be able watch the generation after that come aboard. I am thankful for the good and deep friendships of my neighbors and friends.

Most of all I am thankful for a God who has made me caretaker over his land and animals. It is my deep hope that I am a good and faithful servant in all that I have been entrusted with. I am not sure why I have been given what I have, and I know that I do not deserve any of it. I am only a caretaker who hopes to leave things better than the way I found them.

This year has posed challenges like no other and at times, I must admit, it has been hard to be thankful. I suppose that is an indication of how I take my life for granted but I hope that even in this most hectic of years I will take a moment to pause and reflect on how thankful I am for all the blessings I have been given and I hope each of you will be able to do the same thing.

Sunday is a Day of Rest

Let me just start off by saying I knew better. Yes, that is a statement that I can make about nearly all my mistakes. I knew better but decided to test my luck. In this case my mistake was working on a Sunday. Earlier this year Dad and I had tried to pick corn on a Sunday and broke the hydraulic cylinder that extends the unloading auger. After that mishap a friend told me, “work on Sunday, fix on Monday”. I guess I was warned but desperate times call for desperate measures.

So back to my latest Sunday experience. We are into November and still have a lot of acres of beans to cut, the weather has not been good, and the forecast looked even worse with a couple of snow chances sprinkled in. It has showered just a little on Saturday but had dried off in the afternoon and the wind picked up during the night. Jennifer and I had planned to go help Tatum celebrate her birthday but when I woke up that morning, I told her I was going to stay home and cut beans.

I had planned on going to church then harvesting but when I went outside and found out the wind was howling out of the north and everything seemed dry, I decided that the proverbial ox was in the ditch and the Good Lord probably would forgive me if I tried to get a couple more hours of harvest in. After all Jesus picked wheat on a Sabbath, so harvesting soybeans was OK, if I didn’t make a habit of it. Right?

With pangs of regret I sent Jennifer off to see Tatum and I set about servicing the combine for what I hoped would be a long day of harvest. Dad checked in with me and asked if I needed help., I told him one of us probably ought to go to church and he reminded me of what usually happened when we did something like this. Sheepishly I agreed that it probably wasn’t the best idea but we both were anxious to get something done.

By nine o’clock I was in the field. The beans may have looked ready but they were tough. The combine growled at me every chance it got, and I worked around the patches of heavy beans laying on the ground, I would come back and get them later. At least that was my plan to come back later and finish them. That moment I decided to get the lighter beans up on the sidehill where the wind was hitting. Anything was progress.

For an hour I inched my way along and gradually it seemed like things were getting better and maybe we would make some real progress. I was feeling good and while I wasn’t smug about my choice to skip a trip to see my daughter and church, I did think I had made the right decision. Then it happened. A bearing I had been babying along finally gave out and as it did there was considerable collateral damage. Enough damage that I was sure I couldn’t fix it in the field. Still I was hopeful that I could preform triage mechanics on it and keep going for the day.

I pulled into the yard and proceeded to unload the beans onto the truck. That was when the drizzle started. The weatherman had not said anything about any precipitation of any kind. In fact, the forecast was for clearing skies, wind and a near perfect day to harvest. That had aided in my decision to stay home originally. I think the exact words were zero chance of rain and a great fall day to get outside. I unloaded as fast as I could and got the truck into the shed and went out to diagnosis what was wrong with the header.

It would have been easier to describe what was right with the header. Things were in bad shape and it didn’t take very long for me to conclude that I was done for the day. Broken parts or not I was getting wet. I slogged my way back home and warmed up leftovers, did I mention our church was having a BBQ dinner that day with homemade pie. So, there I was, barely noon and the day was shot, all because of a bad decision to pick work over church and family.

Soon Dad got home and saw the combine parked by the shop and called me to see if it had gotten too wet to cut. It had but I also had to confess that I had broken down. He paused for a second and said that he figured that would happen. Now I am not sure God is all that concerned whether I harvest on a Sunday and I am pretty sure my calamity was not due to his wrath. I do know that there is a very good reason we hardly ever work on a Sunday and that church and family should always come before work. I guess I just need a refresher course occasionally because I knew better.

Ace

Twenty-three years ago, I married a horse person. Not just a horse person but a very good trainer, rider and cowhand. I am not all ashamed to admit that Jennifer is a much better hand than I am, I just feel lucky and blessed that she didn’t feel the need to find a husband who was more proficient. I tried riding a little, especially during our courtship, but I am pretty sure that whole thing about old dogs and new tricks applied to me and riding.

In any case, along with marrying a horse person comes ownership of horses. We have had several over the more than two decades of marriage. Chico was a horse Jennifer bought for me with the hope that maybe I would get better at riding. He was a short horse, which was good for an unathletic, fat guy in that he wasn’t too hard to get up in the saddle on. However, the fact that he was smaller probably didn’t bode well for carrying the afore mentioned fat guy. We traded Chico for Yeller. Yeller was a much bigger, stouter horse that suited big, fat guys better.

Yeller and I got along well, once I was in the saddle. However, soon after we got him, Isaac started riding and he got his mother’s talent. Needless to say, I had lost my horse and ended up driving the feed truck when we moved the cows. Honestly, it is a job I am better suited for. There were other horses along the line including one named Finance, but that is another story for another day. The only pearl of wisdom here is to take a second look at any animal named Finance.

The only constant in my experience as a horse owner is Ace. Ace is Jennifer’s horse, one of those once in a lifetime horses that nearly ended our marriage only months after it had begun. We were living in Anthony, I was the county extension agent and Jennifer was working for a local rancher by the name of Gerald Schmidt. Gerald hired Jennifer to help him with his cattle and to break his colts.

Soon after she started working for him, Jennifer came home very excited about a colt she was working with. He was the easiest horse she ever worked with and after just one day she could tell he was going to be a great one. Soon after that a gentleman stopped by the Extension office and mentioned that he was looking for a horse, I told him I knew of the perfect one and sent him to Gerald. That night when I got home I knew something was terribly wrong.

Jennifer was not at all pleased that I had sent someone out to look at Ace and made that abundantly clear. I may not be real smart but occasionally I do get things right. I told her that if that horse was that special we had probably ought to find a way to buy him. The next day Jennifer went to Gerald and Ace came to live with us. Since then I have been no higher than second on the organizational leadership chart for our ranch. Jennifer is first, Ace is second and I know my place.

Ace is one of those horses that anyone can ride and do anything on him. Even old, fat guys like me get along with him. With Jennifer he can move any group of cows, sort any calves and herd old grumpy bulls. Even more impressive, when we have kids visiting and they want to ride a horse we grab Ace and he allows them to kick, bounce, scream, giggle and do whatever they want while he walks along half asleep. He is truly a once in a lifetime horse and has earned a permanent place in our barn.

I guess that is why I never thought about him getting old, he was going to be here forever, always around to save the day and catch the cow. God willing, he will be around for many more years, but this fall it became apparent that Ace is no different than the rest of us and he cannot escape the reach of father time. It wasn’t anything big, a stumble here and letting a cow get past him that never would have a year ago. He went hard and put everything into it and was better than 90 percent of the horses out there but the writing on the wall was obvious.

Jennifer has started the process of finding the next great horse, it won’t be Ace, but I have faith in Jennifer’s horse sense that it will be a good one. Yes, twenty-three years ago I married a horse person and began a lifetime of horse ownership. I may not be a hand myself, but I am awfully proud of the one I married and if keeping her in good horses is what it takes for me to stick around then we better find the next Ace.

The Stages of Halloween

This week is Halloween. I must admit that Halloween is much different now as empty nesters than it was in any other phase of my life. I think the plan is to have chili and wait on the handful of neighborhood kids to come by and trick-or-treat us. Hopefully it is after a full day of harvest and I won’t scare the kids too much in my dust and grease covered clothes and face. Most of all I hope it is a good day and I am not moaning and groaning around sounding like Frankenstein when they come up to the house.

Halloween is one of those holidays that are different depending on which phase in life you are in. I remember when I was single and in college. Halloween was fun, usually there was a toga party, or a costume party of some kind and it was an excuse to have fun. Then when I was in the working world before I was married I was lucky if I remembered to pick up candy, who am I kidding, if I remembered it was Halloween I was doing good. I wasn’t quite as bad as my buddy Vaughn who gave my kids Sonic mints one year when we trick-or-treated him during his bachelor days.

Then came the time when we had kids. I remember their first Halloweens. Why you ask? Mainly because they wore the same costumes and we cared enough to take pictures.  We have pictures of both kids in a dinosaur costume that Jennifer made. I am pretty sure those pictures will surface many times over the years when we need either a cute picture or an embarrassing one. I do have to admit that the kids were cute once upon a time, then they grew up. We limited the number of stops to grandparents, aunts and uncles and close family friends. The candy gathering was limited, and it took forever to get them out of their car seats.

Soon they were old enough to ask to pick their own costumes, sort of. I remember Isaac wanting to be a rodeo clown. That was easy enough for his mother to modify some Wrangler jeans, buy a crazy wig and paint his face. He also made appearances as Geronimo, a cavalry soldier and Popeye (when one of his best friends was Olive Oil). Tatum was a witch, Indian Princess (we did recycle when we could) and Hannah Montana. Our kids learned at an early age that when your mom is handy with a sewing machine you have cool costumes and not the plastic ones you buy at Wal-Mart. This was the best time because we could hit more stops (no car seats), gather more candy and of course Dad had to make sure it was safe to eat.

The awkward teen years followed. We confronted the delicate issues every parent must face about that time. No not the Talk, but when is too old to trick-or-treat. Halloween was still somewhat of a holiday to them, but no one wants to give candy to a ghost taller than them or a witch that has a deeper voice. It was also tough because they relied on Mom and Dad for transportation. That was about the time my kids discovered the annual Halloween Haunted Hayrack ride in a neighboring town. Mom and Dad could go if we were at the other end of the wagon.

The final stage of Halloween parenthood were the high school years. This was a time we, the parents, spent an evening nervously giving out candy to cute kids all the while hoping the phone did not ring. We were pretty sure our kids would do the right thing, but it was Halloween and the temptations were there. It also made for a late night because they could drive because who was going to be able to sleep with a teenager out on the road. Those were the spookiest Halloweens ever.

Now as empty nesters with kids in college it is much more relaxing. Not because I think they are going to stay at home, but I guess maybe it is out of sight out of mind. It is probably more along the line that I know they are not going to use their one call to me for bail. I am certain my kids might have fun, but I trust them to do the right thing.

I enjoyed each phase of Halloween as a parent, but this might be my favorite. You see we buy a big bowl of candy because we want to be the cool neighbor who has great trick-or-treats (and we don’t want our house tp’ed).  Most importantly that means when the last ghost has booed, and the last cowboy has ridden off, there still should be plenty of candy for me to graze on. After all, when it all comes down to it, Halloween is nothing more than an excuse to eat candy.

Fickle Rain

Its funny how the weather goes. Most of this year we have been abnormally dry, dry enough that it really hurt our corn. Then it started raining in late July and August and the rain was timely for the beans. The corn crop was shot but the beans looked like they were going to be decent. We were still quite a few inches below normal. Then the monsoon season opened up and we got somewhere between five and six inches of rain in less than a week.

All of this came as the soybeans were just starting to dry down. I am not sure if it will hurt them yet, but the rain certainly did not help them. I find it amusing (I have to find it amusing or I will start crying) that one crop can be droughted out and the other can be rained out. Is that a sign of global warming or climate change, I forget? In any case, we are off the drought status and this year will probably show up as an average year when it is all said and done. I guess that is where we get the average, it is the middle between the two extremes.

It was kind of nice to have that break in the middle of harvest, however, after a week of break I am starting to become stir crazy. I appreciated being able to not have to rush for a couple of days and take a deep breath. I even sneaked in a nap, but now it is getting old and I am ready to go. I did get several things done that I had put off until a rainy day, but a rainy week is certainly enough. The ponds are full, subsoil moisture has been replenished, I think whoever is doing the rain dance probably could stop for a month or two right now. A long stretch of dry weather is top on my wish list right now.

We farmers and ranchers are a fickle bunch when it comes to the weather, we are never happy with the current conditions. It is either too hot, too cold, too dry or too wet. It is a good thing we are not Goldilocks. If we had been in that story we would have went through the whole bear neighborhood before we found something to eat and a place to sleep. When it comes to weather we are never “just right”.

I spent most of this summer complaining about the dust and how it made the sheep cough. Now I am grumping around about the mud and how it hurts my knees to slog through it.  When it is dry we all say we will never complain about too much rain. Then when the rain comes we are the first ones to whine and gripe about it. There is no winning when it comes to farmers and ranchers and the weather.

The funny part about all of this is that there is nothing we can do about the weather. Oh, we can complain and wail about it but when it comes right down to it, we must take the hand we are dealt. That doesn’t keep us from being chronic weather watchers. I watch two different local forecasts and at least that many national long-range forecasts and how much good does it do me? Absolutely none. Usually one of the forecasts is right but it is never the same one.

I guess it is like Dad always tells me that there is no sense in worrying about the weather. That is easier said than done when one is wandering around looking at muddy fields of good soybeans, poor corn and pastures filled with calves that need to be brought home and weaned. Nothing is harder than to be staring at a mountain of work and not be able to do anything about it.

In the end, you can look at the calendar and you can even schedule things like harvest on it, but it really doesn’t do you any good. Our schedule is never our own in the world of agriculture, Mother Nature keeps our calendars and she isn’t sharing it with anyone. We knew the gig when we signed up for it but that doesn’t make waiting any easier.

I guess there was no point in all this other than to let off a little steam. I have heard it is not good to hold stress inside and I believe that complaining about the weather is healthy. I am not sure Jennifer or anyone else who has crossed paths with me in the last couple of weeks would agree with that. On the bright side, in a week or two I will probably be lamenting the lack of moisture and variety is the spice of life.