Year's end ...

Here's a great old song on the order of Auld Lang Syne, but the tune's more singable:

words and music Traditional

"The Parting Glass"

Of all the money that ere I had, I spent it in good company
.And of all the harm that ere I've done, alas was done to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit,
to memory now I cannot recall.
So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.

Of all the comrades that ere I had,
they're sorry for my going away,
And of all the sweethearts that ere I had ,
they wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot
that I should rise while you should not,
I will gently rise and I'll softly call,
"Goodnight and joy be with you all!"

It's sung in a minor key (I think) You can search on the lyrics for more information. Anyway ... the real year-end of sorrow comes when we have to do our year-end tax prep.

Poultry

While we've been taking care of the neighbors' farm I've been making mental notes about their poultry.

Guineas: Why?

Runner ducks: Funny, active, good layers

Ornamental chickens: The Houdans have a top knot of long feathers that look like a fright wig, or Phyllis Diller, if you remember her. They are high strung and flighty and will get the others going. The golden Wyandottes are pretty, with bronzy feathers accented with black, but they also seem tempermental. They fight a lot and have pulled out lots of hte others' tail feathers. That might be from being crowded in the barn due to bad weather.

Green-egg layers: These are a mixed breed called Americanas, I think. They are all colors with ear muffs of extra feathers around their faces. Some are even smoky gray and very pretty. They don't seem to lay well, though.

Brown-egg layers: These are the old fashioned breeds that I like the best, including Plymouth Rocks and cross-breds. She has ISA Browns which are a production-oriented red breed with some Rhode Island Red background, I think. These chicks are color coded when they hatch -- males are almost all yellow and females are brown and yellow. (THat's called sex-linkedBTW) Another sex-linked type are black with brown on their heads and necks. These are also color coded at hatching. I think the females are solid black and the males and black and gray. She also has white Rocks and barred Rocks. The latter have a tweedy look of gray with black barring. They are pretty variable, though. Some look almost solid black with gray speckling. Closely related are the white Rocks. They are an ancestor of modern broiler (meat type) chickens. Their white color means they are easier to dress and pin feathers don't show up very well.

Our neighbor said she did not like the ISA Browns for stewing hens since they had no extra flesh and did not taste good. I can't speak to taste, but I picked up a white Rock and an ISA Brown today and found the white Rock hen compact and well-fleshed, not angular like the other one.

So ... maybe my next batch of layers ought to be white Rocks. They are not the heavy layers like ISA Browns but probably have better salvage value.

Wild weather, again

The past couple of days have been so mild that I let the pullets (young hens) out at home and also let out all the poultry at our neighbors.

Matter of fact, their chicken house smelled too much like ammonia so I even opened the windows. Poultry can't handle ammonia -- if we can smell it, it's already too much for them.

But, only days ago we had so much ice that the interstates were closed and our county declared a state of emergency. The day before -- Christmas day -- was clear and cold so we took the kids sledding.

Days before that, we went through near blizzard conditions and I thought my feet were frost-bitten.

Day before that ... we had thunder snow.

The secret to Midwestern weather -- if you don't like it now, wait a minute and it'll change.

In the bleak midwinter ...

And by the way, it's just barely winter!

While the neighbors are on vacation, we are doing their chores for them. Yesterday being Sunday, DH fed the cattle and poultry before church. He thought he left everything done up "ship-shape in Bristol fashion" all but gathering eggs. Neighbor and the kids have a big flock of poultry for 4-H including ducks, guinea hens and chickens -- all sorts.

In other years with nice weather the kids and I have walked down the road there to chore for them.

This year, though, a winter storm went through. Only a few inches of snow and a quarter inch of ice but a stinging cold wind howled all day. County highway ran as few snowplows as possible. Thus we almost didn't make it home from church and dinner in town with the out-laws due to all the drifts.

At home we added layers, took some hot water just in case we needed it and headed down there. I found the water frozen in the shed for the ducks and guineas. Somewhere along the way I misplaced my gloves. On the way over to the chicken house the wind caught my "magic scarf" and blew it all around my head. I could still see but not very well and blundered into crusted drifts that were more than knee deep when I broke through. When I made it to the chicken house, I found they'd been fed and assumed DH and DS1 had finished gathering eggs. But when I checked the water, found no one had been over there yet.

Well, what was going on? I hated to leave the warm chicken house but ...

When I made it to the cow barn the wind was behind me and I could not pull the walk-in door closed for a minute or two until that gust passed. I went in the cow barn and found ... well, things were no longer ship-shape. DH and DS1 had cornered a drooling panicky steer who had gotten a gate over his head and was running around with it. It was a walk-in gate . He looked like he had a four-foot metal ladder over his head. He was panting and drooling as though he'd been stuck like that for quite awhile, clanking around and banging into things. DH and DS1 had moved the other cattle out of his pen and replaced that gate and finally had him cornered.

I thought of a cutting torch but in a straw-filled wooden barn ... bad idea. When one of the kids got their arm wedged in teh carved back of the dining room chairs and panicked, we got the kid out by soaping their arm. What about soap? My next idea was that, like a horse collar, we'd have to turn it while trying to get it over the widest part of his head, right across his ears. If the animal would hold still for that. If he got his head in the gate, surely we could get it out. DH thought if he broke the welds we could pop the steer loose. We decided to try that, first. DH got a sledge hammer and took a couple of whacks. One bar bent slightly. While pulling on it to hold the steer still, he got one ear through. The gate hung up behind the steer's poll, the bony knob on top of his head. DH grabbed the gate and twisted again and the steer finally pulled back hard enough to get loose.

As far as I know he's OK this morning.

Well, what did we learn here? Sometimes the best solution is very direct -- a few whacks with a hammer and pull -- but it's a lot of hard work. Are we sometimes scared to be that direct, thinking there must be an easier way?

Also, we need to be thankful that the steer survived and no one got stepped on, maimed or even broke their glasses with that combination of large panicky animal and metal gate caving around.

Back at teh house I did my own chicken chores. My feet were numb with white blotches when I got in, so had to soak them in warm water. Boy, did they hurt when they warmed up!

This would all seem a lot more do-able at 25 or 30 degrees.

Small town Christmas

Wind-chill is below zero ... the star's lit on top of the feed mill ... Santa's reindeer and 4-H Club llamas have arrived ... a live nativity scene is set up in the horse & buggy parking shed ... burn barrels full of sawmill scrap are blazing ... it's time for the town Christmas festival!

The kids' choir including DS1 entertained at our hometown Christmas festival following a six-block parade from teh library to the depot plaza ... er, parking lot.

We had not gone before since this is DS1's first year in the choir, so we didn't know what to expect.

First, the mayor (in a Victorian top hat and tail coat) welcomed everyone and read the Christmas story, including " ... and they all paused for the west-bound freight ..." which roared by about 45 miles an hour, before continuing with the shepherds deciding to go into Bethlehem.

Then the city council (all in Victorian costume) lit the town Christmas tree. It's a 30-foot live spruce in front of the depot. It had two strings of lights, large bulbs and small. Everyone ooo-ed and ah-ed all the same.

The kids took the stage in the retired mobile grandstand stage from teh county fair. The fairgrounds got a bigger, better one some years ago and this one was handed down to our hometown.

But as the boys and girls bounced up and down the sound system started to fade. It could have been age, or cold weather, or kids jiggling stuff loose. DS1 said later that when the next freight train went by the stage shook the whole time.

Anyway, the kids had to finish their favorite song with no accompaniment and no microphones. Teacher belted out the accompaniment and they all carried on and finished the song. We would have given them a standing O but we were all standing anyway.

Next year we hope to go a little earlier, see more of the sights and if the weather's better will bring the rest of the troop. It's not to be missed!

We're Scrooged

Our state has been "fixing" the property tax mess for the past couple of years. First, our the value of our house was marked up unrealistically. Apparently, many others' homes were also over-priced. After great wailing and gnashing of teeth, the state adjusted the system again and provided tax relief! To home owners! Yay!

Well, the money had to come from somewhere.

They re-assessed farmland -- bare, unimproved farmland -- and raised the taxes on our ground.

So, we are still paying a staggering (to us) amount in property tax, but not on the house. On the ground instead.

The best part, though, is that bills were delayed ... the first installment was due Dec. 1 and the second is due in mid-January.

Just in time for Christmas.

Parts run ... Eph. 4:16

BIL, who was a missionary in Russia for many years, preached about Ephesians 4:16 at church yesterday ... about all parts of Christ's body, the church, working together. I've always pictured that as body parts and had kind of an "eww" reaction.

But BIL recalled traveling with a Russian friend to a church conference. In their free time they visited a museum. His friend did a double-take when he saw an old-fashioned home movie projector. "I had forgotten -- how could I forget somethign like that?"

His friend explained that various cells of the underground church in Russia would each obtain one part of the projector. If any group ordered a whole projector, or even more than one part the state would become suspicious. At an appointed time, the groups would gather, assemble the projector and then they could watch a Christian movie for encouragement or teaching.

That really illustrated how all of us are parts of Christ's body. Perhaps I am only a cog or a lever or a wire ... but without every part working perfectly, the whole thing struggles.

Breakdown list

I forgot to update the breakdown list.

The wooden hay wagon is now in pieces. I have a pile of plywood up here for improvements in the chicken barn. DH can use the running gear over again and contemplates making it into another flat wagon.

Everything else (touch wood) seems OK

Surviving the flu

We did all survive but I was starting to wonder. The flu has been going around at school but the kids seemed to be shaking it off until this weekend. First, DS1 got sick. Later we learned half of his classmates were sick at the same time as well as his teacher. Then DH and I and DS2 all got sick at the same time, which was a lot fun for me to clean up. (But, as I told MIL with a dramatic gasp and weak voice trailing into a whisper, "But ... I got 'er done.")

I do believe I was the worst off. High fever and slept all day. Poor DH hoped I could go out and do his chores for him but couldn't wake me up.

DS2 bounced back almost immediately. Our perpetual-motion machine read books and colored all day instead of running. He must not hav felt 100 percent.

When the "big kids" got home they ended up feeding the cows and calves and cooking supper. They fixed plain spaghetti coated with parmesan cheese, served with Gatorade.

Finally the next day DD got sick. She had the lightest case of all, thankfully.

So ... all better just in time to go back to work.

What are the life lessons here? Pretty proud of the kids for pitching in and helping. DD also thought to run to grandma's and borrow a can of soup. One of DD's friends called later to ask if we were all right. Basically we are grateful to be well.

Worst. Hayride. Ever.

The National Weather Service predicted 20 to 30 mile per hour winds yesterday, Sunday, just in time for our church's harvest fest. The whole town was invited and DH agreed to bring hay wagons for a hay ride. Even with a wind advisory, the show must go on.

We brought sleeping bags and our riders covered up. Even though he cut the ride short, we turned into the wind just as a 40 mile an hour gust hit. It doesn't sound like much, but while sitting in an open wagon, it brought tears to our eyes. The wind howled through the metal sides of the wagons, utility lines galloped overhead and a light pole came down. Two toddler fairy princesses huddled in the blanket. with just their magic wands and foam and glitter wings showing. THeir mom wore a raincoat while the rest of us were in Carhartts and fur hats. Everyone survived, dashing into the church for hot chocolate as soon as we deplaned.

When we got home -- although we expected limbs down, and speculated there might be too many in the lane to get the wagons through -- we did not expect to see a pile of rubble where one of the other hay wagons stood.

Grandpa and Grandma watched it happen. This one, also with high sides to catch bales from the kick-baler, was made of wood and caught a lot more of the wind. All this summer I thought it seemed tippy when we unloaded it. The wind hit and the box tipped one way, then tipped the other way, then as another gust went through it rolled off the gear and crashed.

I guess that piece of equipment is now depreciated out.

Here's the break down list:
Neighbor's combine.
Monday, arrived to run corn. Broke down, needed chain links
Tuesday, broke down, needed hydraulic hoses. DH and Neighbor had to make two parts runs.
Wednesday, broke down.
Thursday, broke down.
Friday, bad weather.
Saturday, bad weather.

Cattle trailer ... needs something welded.

Truck tailgate ... doesn't latch. After all the abuse, I'm surprised it took this long for something to break.

Harvest continues

DH and Grandpa had to make some decisions about harvest. The corn is wet, but we had a lot of wind damage with some rows lodged (tumbled into each other) and some down completely. The remains of Hurrican Ike went through here with about 8 inches of rain and high winds that hit the drought-damaged corn pretty bad.

Since it's fragile, "the men" including DS1 figured they would be money ahead to harvest now, even if we have to pay for drying, than take a chance on losing more to weather damage.

DH hired a Mennonite neighbor with a smaller combine for the job. We sold our combine years ago. In other years we've had neighbors and cousins with bigger machinery harvest, but to get all we can out of the field we needed someone who was content to go slow and proceed carefully.

Break-down's ...

Neighbor's combine broke a chain
Disk -- broken bolts. It's "shedded" until spring, though.

Harvest, part 2

Yesterday morning I went off on a tangent about the cows getting out.

Yesterday afternoon "the men" including our 10-year-old DS1, finished harvesting soybeans. Since the weather turned off dry from the county fair to the start of school -- about six weeks -- we wondered how the beans would turn out.

I was surprised. On the lighter soil, they yielded as well as any other year. On the heavy ground, where I expected a higher yield, they did not do well at all. My theory is that the clay in our heavy ground set up like concrete and the roots couldn't get anything out of the ground. At least they were not a total loss.

Grandpa finished the last field of hay. It is so sweet and green it looks like it belongs in a salad bowl. DH calls this candy. Dairy cows in milk make the best use of it.

Now we are planting wheat.

Here's the break-down list:
On the tractors --
Transmission trouble
Grain wagons --
Flat tires
Disk -- broken hitch, needed welding
Nothing on the hay baler
Nothing on the hay wagons.
Big sigh of relief ... nothing expensive (this week, anyway)

Harvesting

Over the weekend, the cows got out at 2 a.m. Saturday. A big bunch of them -- all the black ones, of course -- were runnign down the road in the middle of the night. So as we are driving them through the neighbor's yard and trying to get them back in their pasture, I was noticing the sound of their hooves, how the moon looked golden as its nearly setting, how scary DH looked silhouetted against the night sky.

That was because we had to push them back up a cut-bank they had fallen off as they came through the broken fence. Cows have no depth perception. I think that's why the whole bunch did not get out -- as soon as their herdmates began to drop off the edge of the world they had second thoughts. None of them were hurt. Cattle are remarkably resilient.

We did all this by the light of the moon, camping lanterns, our flashlight with barely any battery left and a lot by ear. Although the neighbors have a three-acre yard they only mow a patch around the house. The rest is, well, a biologist would say something about succession, from grasses to brush to small trees and back to forest.

At 2 a.m., the middle step of that -- brush and small trees -- is hard to thrash through and keep up with running calves.

As we met the neighbors, who came out and tried to help and finished up getting all the cows and calves back in the sheriff showed up. He could have spot-lighted the whole situation but arrived too late.

By the time we got home it was past 4 a.m.

I still had to get up and open the restaurant. Needless to say, I did not cashier any all day -- I was too clumsy and confused to handle money.

8 inches of rain

Although nothing compared to the hurricane that hit Texas, the remnants of Ike blew through here as a tropical depression.

We got 8 inches of rain over the weekend and a few gusts of about 25 miles an hour. Farther downstate, however, they were hit by 75-mph gusts and no rain.

Here the ground was so dry that today, Tuesday, almost all the puddles are gone, creeks are down and DH plans to go out and mow hay.

It was probably too much too late for much of our corn and soybeans. Big sigh. We had hoped for a good year with the beans. All the corn will go to the cattle and poultry with little if any to sell as cash grain.

But with a diversified farm, if one venture goes sideways, maybe another one will pop up as a winner.

A fish story ...

We went to my folks' place over Labor Day and I went fishing with the boys and my dad.

Over the summer the kids fished in their pond quite a bit. They knew all the best places and DS1 could identify all the different kinds of fish.

I used my grandma's pole and reel with a life-like artificial night-crawler, cast out into deep water near the area where there seemed to be a lot of action. My dad, AKA Pop, thought the big fish gravitated towards the sunny shallows after minnows.

I caught and released four bass in a row. The biggest was about 10 inches and the others were about six inches long.

The last one got the hook in its jaw so deeply that I sent to boys around the pond to Pop for some pliers. Until they could come back I put the fish back in teh water, still on my line. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do.

While this six-inch bass was zig-zagging and I was watching the boys, out of the corner of my eye I saw something big and dark lunge through the water with a tremendous splash, hit my fish still on the line and then whoosh -- I had nothing left.

I screamed like a girl.

What was that?!

Pop and the boys wondered if it was a catfish. I wondered if that young bass got away or got eaten for dinner. My brother's fiancee suggested it was the Loch Ness monster. If you'd see the algae on the pond, Loch Mess is more like it.

Anyway, that's one of the things I like about fishing -- being outside, on the water, seeing nature. Every cast is a fresh start, fresh hope. And here my analogy fails b/c sometimes at the very end a big catfish comes along and changes everything!

First day of school!

Wow ... first day of school. Our oldest cowboyed up and is trying to stay cheerful about going to middle school, a source of worry all summer. Our middle one is coasting, looking forward to bigger and better math problems. Our youngest could barely balance his big ol' back pack. Loaded with boxes of Cheezits, Kleenex, gym shoes, crayons, glue, markers and a whole handful of Number 2 pencils, the backpack weighed more than him. Of course DH imagined the first-graders going down like dominoes if one went down under the weight of his or her backpack! What visual!

Praying for rain ...

We've reached a critical time in development of our soybeans, which we hoped would be our big cash crop this year. They are setting pods and filling the pods right now and need water to do so. But we haven't had rain for about a month. Praying for rain ...

I should have been ...

I should have been cleaning house and doing laundry -- but, instead, we went to the blueberry marsh and picked 15 pounds of berries. We're close to the end of the season, so I believe this variety was "Jersey Giant." Some of the branches looked like they carried clusters of grapes.

The farm owner should weigh the boys in and weigh them as they go out. I have no idea how many pounds of free berries the kids ate!

We had to stop at the grocery and the feed mill on the way home.

Interruptions keep coming. Instead of cleaning, I helped unload more hay then went to the butcher's and picked up the rest of a whole hog we got from a neighbor. I raise a bunch of chickens for her and her boys raise hogs in 4-H. Then we trade. Works for us!

Needless to say, no laundry got done today. Maybe tomorrow. Well, maybe not, because I have to go back to the restaurant.

Hay, hay, hay ...

It's been too dry, but, we're getting some good alfalfa made. When DH is in the highly mechanized part of it, mowing, raking and baling, I enjoy the commotion and the scent of new mown hay.

However, the bales must go from the wagons up into the hay mow somehow. So we all help unload wagons, put the bales on the elevator (think of a conveyor belt) and DH and the boys stack it in the mow.

We have a century-old bank barn. The oldest parts are pegged together. The newer areas, such as a granary and the doorway to the cow stable, is done with square-headed nails. The mow is actually the whole top floor of the barn. From floor to roof peak is 30 or 40 feet, stacked to the rafters and beyond with hay and straw.

It sounds and looks overwhelming, but, like a lot of worthwhile projects, we do it a little bit at a time and "keep everlastingly at it."

Welcome to the Farm

Well, here we are, needing rain again! In the middle of summer, our corn could use up to an inch of rain per week.

Our farm is located in the upper Midwest, about an hour from Lake Michigan. That's often a good thing, providing pop-up showers, lake effect snow and also, fun day trips.

We now have three generations of [insert Dutchy name here] on the farm. Sorry -- I guess I'm a little leery of sharing too much information. That would be Grandpa, DH and DS#1 all farming together right now. DD and DS#2 and I are all involved, too, at various times.

We raise beef cattle, hay, wheat, soybeans, corn, a few chickens and sometimes we raise Cain.