The Joys of Being a Farm Wife

I recently had the opportunity to spend some time visiting with a group of farm wives in Iowa.  It was planting time so the men were spending long hours trying to get the corn and soybeans in the ground.  The spring weather had been unusual, to say the least.  Temperatures that week had soared to 90 degrees while just ten days before there had been 10 inches of snow on the ground.  The farmers, knowing that rain would come, were planting until all hours of the night to get the seeds in the ground before it got too wet to get into the fields.  During this time it becomes a female society.  Everywhere you go you see women carrying on the daily chores of life with nary a man in sight.  (Some of the women also work in the field, but obviously, I didn't get a chance to visit with them.) 

I was enjoying chatting with the women while we were preparing dinner for the men, who would be taking a break to celebrate a fifth birthday.  The child in question hadn't seen her daddy for several days, since he was getting in long after she was asleep and leaving long before she got up.  They were planting the field next to the house, so they were taking a break to eat lunch and celebrate with birthday cake.  Then back to the field.  The conversation took a turn to the joys of being married to a farmer. 

We discovered, for instance, that getting called to pick up parts entailed the same frustrations whether the machine in question was a huge planter or a two-row tobacco cultivator.  No matter that the guys had called and assured us that the part was ready and waiting, only needing to be picked up, it never was that simple.  Inevitably the parts manager would have a question. "Is it for the right disc or the left?"  "Did he mean metric or US measurements?"  "Did he want one or the pair?" We all agreed that cell phones came in pretty handy then.  Or the instructions would be that the part would be left on the loading dock, just drive around back and pick it up.   What they didn't tell her, one wife declared, was that she would have to unlatch a big bin only to discover 8 or 10 parts for different customers.  Then she would have to dig through them and identify the one she needed.  All of this on an hour detour with two kids in the car.

Another wife laughed and said that, for her, having company was the challenge.   Their daughter had recently graduated from high school and in the local tradition they had thrown a large graduation party for family and friends.  The plans and preparations had gone on for weeks before the big date.  The house had been cleaned, food cooked, the yard manicured, tables had been set up and tents erected.  What had hubby done while all this was going on?  He washed his tractors!  All the while, insisting that he was doing his part in getting ready.  I laughed and agreed.  Before our daughter's wedding my hubby was only concerned with the barn being clean.  Another replied that at least they were there.  Her farmer would decide at the last minute he had one chore that just had to be done, that would take until the party was half over to finish.

Laundry and the stinking messes that men can get into came into the conversation.  My daughter chuckled about the night her hubby had managed to get covered with the smelly remains of a dead calf.  Gagging he had called for her from the back door.  He had stripped off his clothes and left them in the driveway and was yelling for SOAP!.  "What kind?' she yelled back.  "Anything that stinks good!" he yelled back.  With no more ado he had started lathering and rinsing with the garden hose.  He wanted to throw the clothes away but after being hosed down and airing for a day or two they washed up as good as new.

I remembered a time when hubby had been trying to get a cow in a working chute.  Every time he would get her almost in she would back up and get out of the alley way.  In desperation, he finally just crowded her up and put his chest right against her so she couldn't back up.  With that, she lifted her tail and filled the top of his coveralls with warm, spring grass runny, manure.  Within minutes it was dripping out of both pant legs and oozing out the sides.  When I finally quit laughing, we had to hose him down before he could even get out of his clothes!

We all agreed that living with a farmer was a challenge.  We all know that on a farm often the crops and animals will take precedence over family.  However, we also know that these good men, who give their lives to caring for the land and the animals with such dedication are a very special breed.  That the same love and devotion they give to their farming they return to their families 10 fold, by being loving, steadfast, dependable, devoted and dedicated spouses, parents, sons, and siblings.  They are the salt of the earth.

One other thing the wives agreed on.  We wouldn't change places with anyone.