New Life Old Farmers

I got it!  My green light, my go ahead, all suited up for the game, and I got the nod, I was going in!  I climbed up (seriously, there is like a ladder) into ‘my’ tractor, a big John Deere and set off to work as a baler in Our Friend the Farmer’s field.  I’d been waiting and hoping for the chance to be out and be part of the action….and a tad nervous that I would screw it up.

 I pull a baler affectionately named “Grandma” and, yes, it is older than I am.  Rules for baling… never turn left and do not back up!  Be good at swiveling your head, because you drive slowly down the ‘windrow’ (farming name for the row of hay) watching where you are going and looking back at your baler or in my case “Grandma” to make sure the hay is going in the right way and that the bales are coming out properly.  Slow and steady the balers work the field a bit like ants.  My tractor has air conditioning and a radio, which almost always seems to pick up country music.  I could not help but think about my other job, profession, work, which I left in California.  A bit different… a Realtor selling million dollar (not all but plenty) homes to now…and loving it!

From the cab of the tractor are some of the members of the little baling team, an almost perfectly diverse crew.  Two gals, two guys.  One teenager, one young father, me and the chief baler whose age is somewhat over 70.  Our Friend the Farmer’s teen granddaughter and I bonded yesterday as after 5 hours of baling we were grateful to be within walking distance of Glory Farm’s bathrooms.  We parked our tractors up (that is how you say it here in the country, a tractor is parked ‘up’, not just ‘parked’) and took off on a brisk walk down the trail, through the gates and across the yard.

I felt a little badly that I might be ‘cheating’ on Jubal, but I quickly got over it.  We worked on many different fields so there were trips down the road, waving to our girls out sunning themselves, across the highway and over the rail road tracks.  I loved going down the road!  A big old tractor taking up a lot of the street, just like the tractor sign…except the tractor was bigger and the signs don’t have boobs.

The tractors run on diesel, the balers need grease, string and hydraulics fluid.  The drivers run on Mountain Dew delivered in the afternoon by Our Friend the Farmer when he fills up the baler with string.

Watching the rows of hay turn into a field of tightly bound bales is part of the farm magic.  I wanted to do a really, really good job, because that is who I am, but also because I wanted Our Friend the Farmer to be as glad to have me baling as I was to be baling.

Does this mean I’ve ceased my obsession with cows?  No.  It is just a different season.  We live where there are seasons now and it is the hay season…the hay harvest.

Last year My Loving Spouse baled and bartered for hay for our herd…I wonder how long it would take to bale for a heifer?

After this post was written one of my clever readers made me a present,

that I must share with you…hope you enjoy it as much as we did!

I think maybe we finally belong…here in this country town.  Thank God, truly for everything.  For the beautiful valley, the animals, the hard work and the history, but most of all for the people.  Our new friends….it takes a while to really make them.  I mean, really make new friends…those that accept us, ‘warts’ and all.

I find life funny… and dear…I love my family…and my Lord… this country life, the mud?, sorry the journey’s still out on the mud and on the poop, but I’m learning to live with it.  I look for the positive when blogging, which for the most part is good.  The positive is a big part of our life… but it is not everything…and so the truth is we (the parents, the old folks, the bill folds, the cruise directors) are tired!   We are reaching the end of 6 weeks of extra teens here.. mouths to feed…attitudes to adjust…’situations’ to unravel and attempt once again to be understanding….

And then we got invited to a friend’s house….for a glass of wine… and to just get away from everything…the mess…the heat (they had air conditioning)… those kids, our kids…the herd… and we went…quickly, like parental refugees…ah….and it was nice.  It was cool… it was quiet… it was lovely.  Our friend knew we were tired, that we needed a break, and she still wanted us to come….and she had wine…and snacks…. friends are good.  Real friends… are really, really good…and we are grateful.

A wild and wet storm passed through yesterday with lots of quick but heavy rain, thunder and lightning.  Normally, I would enjoy the excitement and the power of the storm, but this time, I knew how hard it would be on the farmers here.  They’ve been working so hard to get their hay crop in.  Cut hay that is rained on not only has to be dry before it is baled, but it is not worth as much money as the hay that hasn’t been rained on.

Mother Nature is a giving, yet hard and unpredictable partner.  She’s helped to grow an abundant crop, but now the farmers must practice one of my least favorite things to practice…patience.  I’ve had to practice patience as well (darn), as I am set to help bale the hay (in a big tractor) for Our Friend the Farmer when and if the hay is dry enough to bale.  Yesterday was to be my big baling day…until the storm came through.  After the storm, I was glad to do a bit of weed mowing on my faithful tractor, Jubal, which never fails to lighten my outlook.    As I parked my tractor up, I saw the sign that reminds us in the storms of summer it won’t keep on raining and in the storms of life we are never alone.

Today was My Loving Spouse’s birthday.  Thank God for the ‘dyslexic’ offspring, who was not only in charge of the sprinkles, but in charge of the creative arrangement of the birthday candles as well.  The three teens had made the cake and bought the goodies for it days ago, which was nicely appreciated by the birthday boy (?) person… man… head honcho guy.  The Teen and The English Niece dutifully whipped, stirred and baked the cake, while Number Three Son licked the beaters.

Dinner was an all American favorite, hot dogs and hamburgers, to the delight of The English Niece who is spending the summer ‘across the pond’.  She was not ‘keen’ (a very British word) on having her picture taken, but as I reminded her that her Dad was missing her, reading the blog to keep in touch and he’d paid for her ticket to come over, she agreed.

The birthday Brit had requested cricket as the after dinner game.  Being good sports we showed up to play, even though most of us didn’t know a single thing about cricket.  We quickly learned however, that we were going to play French cricket.  Why we were eating an American meal and playing a ‘French’ game on the Brit’s birthday, one can only wonder….

French cricket is nothing more than ‘fancy’ dodge ball.  Everyone stands in a circle with the batsman in the middle.  You throw the ball at the batsman’s shins and try to hit him.  The batsman can knock the ball away with the cricket bat.  We were all pretty pathetic, which actually added to the enjoyment of the game.  The silliness rose in equal proportion to the cheap whiffle balls falling apart.  (Note to self, upgrade, dollar store whiffle balls… not!).

But say what you will about our cricket skill, I’m pretty darn sure we are the best cricket team in Ellensburg.  French, English, American, perfectly pathetic and contentedly so.

Happy Birthday to My Favorite Brit!

The inn is full, sort of..after all, if you want to sleep in the barn, there is still plenty of room.  I would suggest you sleep upstairs in the hay loft, as sometimes there is a skunk that roams the barn at night downstairs.  I’d also suggest not sleeping directly under the cupola as there is a pigeon that tends to perch there and do what pigeons do best… poop, but other than that, you are welcome to the barn, as the house is full.  A full house is still quite new to me.  My home was not a ‘destination’ place…it was small….friends lived nearby…family went to my folks house.  Our move to Glory Farm has changed many things and people come here.  I am still learning how to do ‘it’.

Having a lot of family at the farm for the week is giving everyone a lot of options, which is good, so good in fact that I’ve hardly touched my Secret See’s Candy Survival Stash at all.  People tend to drift off in small groups with the members of the group ever-changing, a bit like changing partners in a square dance.  Yesterday my sister and I weeded the entire vegetable garden, surprisingly enough, no teenagers offered to join us.  However, it was rewarding work and we got uninterrupted visiting time, which is priceless.  In the evenings the teens make loud, fun noise singing with rock band until we go to bed which is when they begin their nightly movie.

Every dinner is a large family dinner and although I know we have some picky eaters here, they tend not to exhibit that trait with so many mouths to feed, I guess they’re worried they might not get anything to eat at all if they do.  Smart kids….

Feeding oneself breakfast and lunch is a life skill and I’m doing my best to make sure everyone learns how to do it.  I do not even bat an eye at Number Three Son as he has orange soda with breakfast…his ration of soda is one can a day and if he wants it downed by 8:00am, well, really who cares?

Becoming a home where people visit is almost as big a change and learning curve for me, as moving to the country.  I still have much to get better at… to pace myself….let things go…buy enough TP….know what really matters…accept that we are all a tad bit quirky and be grateful, which I am…that they want to come.

Oh, to be six.  My Little Nephew was born a year after the last of his Grandparents passed away and so we’ve tried to step into that special role.  We’ve certainly been looking forward to sharing the farm with him, as my Uncle and Aunts did for me, when I was a child… the animals, the tractors, the cousins and the space to just be six.

My Little Nephew quickly discovered the joy of finding a freshly laid egg and as he checks the hen’s boxes approximately 20 times a day the odds of his finding a warm one are extremely high!

The family game…he was a natural complete with the straw hat he snagged from his mother, so much so that the older offspring staged an uprising and put an end to his unlimited mulligans.

With a house full of family, it is easy to find someone to pour the breakfast cereal and Number Three Son is a ready favorite.

Our library seemed the perfect place to stage the k-nex roller coaster building….ah, mess.  But, as I said to My Loving Spouse as we kicked a path through the debris to our room, “It is a happy mess” and one that surprisingly does not bother me, at least for now.

Helping me mow the lawn, he could have mowed all day long.  So far the only thing he is a bit wary of is the cow, as he was just moving in on her when she started to poop.  Boy, you should have seen how fast his little legs could run!

Nothing really compared to being left under the charge of My Loving Spouse for the morning, out in the workshop with tools, tools tools.  Tractor driving was highlighted as absolutely the BEST part of the day!!

My Loving Spouse reported that Whoa Nelly Walton was actually the best baby sitter around, as he was happy to sit in the truck and do little more than turn the steering wheel for what seemed like hours!

Being six, even if you’re cute does not exempt one from dish duty… at least not around here, to which his real Grandmother would be proud….

The day ended with a bit of a crash as he fell out of the swing….but as he said to the chickens… “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow”.

Tomorrow is the day.  The day we go to nine family members under one roof….for one week…one small kitchen table…two bathrooms…plenty of beds…age 6 to 63…and a beautiful farm to share.

The upstairs landing turned into kids media area… I turned twin bed turned into ‘day’ bed which we’ll use for overflow sleeping….

We needed many more spots to hang towels!  Adding a wooden strip My Loving Spouse routed, then I painted and added hooks and name plates.  Trust me some people get a tad dirty on the farm and other people don’t like it when the dirty boys use their clean towel, so we are getting organized!!

And if this were Martha Stewart the towels would all match…but in case any one was wondering…this is not!

A kid sized bicycle was picked up at a garage sale for the 6-year-old nephew, so he can ride and ride and ride.  The sisters have packed their straw hats for croquet… the English niece arriving with a requested supply of treats one can not find here in the USA.

Menu planned…. dish washing duties sorted…. groceries purchased…. dust dusted…

Arms out wide…. can’t wait to see them!

Glory Farm’s Barn Quilt is up!

The process was not simple or quick…

Most good things seem to take a group effort and this was no exception.

The first Barn Quilt Trail in Washington is quite new and we first heard about the project 4 months ago.  It was intriguing, as I remembered seeing barn quilts in Pennsylvania many, many years ago.  However,  putting one up on our barn took a bit more thinking.

Our old barn is very beautiful.

So with that in mind… we should do it… but with that in mind, perhaps we should not…!!

Be asked both of our neighbors what they thought we should do, as we are still ‘new’ here in the valley respect both their opinions and their insight.  Both gave it some consideration before saying that they thought it was a good idea.  We wanted to do what was best for the community and as we have a historical house it seemed we should participate.  I also asked the Quilting ladies, who asked a few questions about how it worked, who picked the quilt (we did) and they too gave their thumbs up.

Next step…picking the quilt square, which took canvasing the cousins.  We wanted a square that meant something to us, so a family quilt was definitely going to be the answer.  My cousins helped by sending us pictures of family quilts.  We’ve been told the quilt pattern’s name is Shoo Fly.  It is from a quilt my grandmother made and I remember my mother only letting us use it a bit as it was very worn.  It seemed a perfect fit for our barn.  My mother gave the quilt to my cousin, as they had lost many family treasures in a house fire.  The cousins knew that this was my grandmother’s very first quilt, so Clara Augusta Pruess Jensen (1895-1977)…this one is for you too.

The barn owners pay for the quilt to be built.  The amount is a reasonable sum, but one for us that was going to be funded after a few other more pressing projects had been completed, so we planned on having a quilt, but not right away.  Except… we started receiving gifts toward the quilt project, and before we knew it, the timing became sooner rather than later.

 We wanted to get a fresh coat of paint on the front side of the barn, before the quilt went up.  The weather did not exactly co-operate.  Number One Son, Number One Wife and I gave it a valiant effort with the wind blowing.  We managed to get the lower third painted.

Then came a calm day, ladders and extension tools and rollers.  There was nothing easy about getting the paint on the barn.  Paint sprayer…yes, it is on the list of necessary tools to buy.

Number Two Son and I needed to get the doors above where the quilt would go painted, which meant standing on a rickety platform 10 feet above the second floor inside the barn and leaning out the doors approximately 20 feet up off the ground.  Neither of us especially enjoy climbing about on high places, so this was challenging to say the least.  With the doors painted, we felt pretty proud of ourselves although I will confess to coveting a bucket lift, cherry picker, scissor lift of any type, as there is a lot more painting still to do here.

The 8×8 foot quilt square is made of wood and weighs 250 pounds.

Volunteers assist in all aspects of the quilt program, building,  painting, mounting….  Volunteers that own a bucket truck to assist in mounting is especially helpful and yes, I sort of want one.

Loved seeing it ‘fly’ thorough the air…

We think it is gorgeous, but still…

why do it?

The Barn Quilt Trail Map says it all…

“A year round, self-guided driving tour that honors our agricultural heritage and industry.  This grass-roots project also celebrates the folk-art of the American quilt and the strong women who made them.”

barnquiltswashington.org

Stuff happens.  It seems to happen a lot more in the country, because there are more ‘creatures’ and we creatures tend to get into trouble.  However, this time it was not I that was in trouble…

Just past the alfalfa field from our house is a field that is the summer home to Our Friend the Farmer’s heifers, (not his big cows, the little cows… well, they are not actually ‘cows’ yet, because they haven’t had a calf yet, so they are heifers or teenage girl cattle).  Like all groups of teenage girls, there is always one.  Anyway this one, got out and was standing in the road.  My Loving Spouse spied her and hollered to me, “The heifer’s are out!”, even though it was just one, which is a good thing because so far our cattle wrangling skills are still a work in progress.  We jumped into the truck to head off down the road in an attempt to keep her from becoming premature hamburger.  I called Our Friend the Farmer to alert him of the situation.  His first concern to we cow wranglers was sort of important, “Let’s be sure it is mine.”  Good idea, I thought to myself.

“Does it have a blue tag?”

‘Yep’

“Does the number start with 2?”

‘Yep, 203… the little trouble maker.  We’ll keep her off the road until you get here.’

It was going to take Our Friend the Farmer 10-15 minutes to get down to the scene of the wayward heifer.  203 in the mean time, left the road and decided to visit the neighbors.  This seemed pretty good to me as the neighbor’s yard was fenced.  I became the temporary fence across the drive way to keep 203 off the road.  My Loving Spouse took the job he has perfected over the years.  I think this picture tells the tale pretty well.

My Loving Spouse hard at work doing the job, called ‘Chatting with people you’ve never met before’.  With My Loving Spouse doing his job, the neighbor didn’t seem too bothered that 203 was in their yard, while I kept 203 off the road.

Our Friend the Farmer showed up on his ‘bike’ and ran 203 back to the herd.  I think our first rescue went pretty well.  We did learn however, that most of the people don’t like their flower gardens mangled up by a cow, so if possible it is best to keep the wayward teenager to the side of the road.  I think I will grab a long stick or a shovel for my next rescue, to move the cow back down the road, because one cannot always count on My Loving Spouse being around to do his ‘chatting’ job thereby keeping the heifer safe and the neighbors happy.