I am married to a farmer who is also an insurance agent in a rural community. Sometimes the insurance companies, that he represents, have trouble understanding some of the claims they receive. I can understand this, they are located in cities.
A prime example of this came a few years ago when a farmer came into the office to report a loss. It seemed he needed a new door on his pick-up truck. Hubby filled out the papers while chatting with the farmer about "farm stuff"....you know, hay, weather, cows, weather, fencing, weather...you get the drift. "Now," he says, "How did this accident occur?" "It wasn't an accident", the farmer declared, "she did it on purpose!" A little taken aback, Hubby frowned and asked, "Who hit your truck on purpose?" "That old cow!" replied the farmer with some frustration. "Ummm, who is an old cow?" Hubby queried in some confusion. "Not a who" he replied, "an old cow! Probably the best cow I've got!"
It seems that he had taken his truck to the field to check his cows and while he was driving around one of his cows had suddenly charged the truck, butting into the passenger door. Not satisfied with that she did it again and then again, before wandering off in disgust. The result was a badly dented door and a confused farmer. He confessed that he didn't know why she had attacked the truck, but since she had raised a dandy calf he was willing to forgive her.
The door was duly paid for and repaired and the story chuckled over and forgotten.
Then a few weeks later the same farmer returned to the office to report the loss of another door on his pick-up truck. It seems that he had again taken the truck to the field to check on his cows. Again the cow with the dandy calf had charged the truck, repeatedly. The result was the same, a badly dented door that needed to be repaired. "Why is she doing this?" Hubby questioned. Shaking his head, the farmer replied, "I don't have a clue, but she sure has a thing for my poor old truck." "Well," hubby advised, "You might consider checking your cows from the tractor for a while until you figure her out!"
A few weeks passed and the farmer again showed up in the office. "Now don't tell me you need another door!" Hubby exclaimed to the farmer. "Nope", he replied, "but I've figured that old bitch out!"
"I've spent the last few weeks watching that old cow. Every chance I'd get I would go to the field and just sit and watch her. I got to know her really well. She's a good mama and what I call an 'easy keeper'. She feeds her baby good but doesn't lose weight like a lot of good mama cows do. Then, after a while of watching her I began to see why she was keeping her weight up so well."
"What did you discover?", asked Hubby with interest.
The farmer replied, "I had put her in a field with a lot of cows with newly weaned calves. So to give the calves a little extra while they are learning to eat on their own, I keep a creep feeder in the field. (For you non-farmers this is a metal bin with a corral around it that lets the little calves "creep" under the bars for feed but keeps the bigger cows out.) I got to watching that old cow and I noticed that she attacked that creep feeder just like she did my truck. So I decided to investigate."
"I took a good look at the creep feeder, which was an old one I had used several years. After poking around I discovered that there was a weak seam on the back corner. She had figured out that if she butted that back side, the seam would open a little and a trickle of feed would flow out. She would then enjoy her snack."
"Watching her butt that creep feeder, I thought back to when she had attacked my truck. At that time I had her in a field with pregnant cows, which meant no creep feeder. When she saw my truck door she evidently thought it was a strange creep feeder and so she attacked it to get her feed 'fix'!"
By now both Hubby and the farmer were laughing over the antics of the crazy cow.
"I just wanted you to know that I would be checking cows from my tractor from now on so you won't have to replace that door again!"
By now the entire office was laughing about the truck butting cow.
You just don't get claims like this in the city.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Thursday, May 28, 2015
The Farmer's Bible Verse
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot."
* * * * * *
Farming has been going on as long as there have been people to feed. The writer of the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes obviously knew his farming and farmers. Spring is definitely the season for "every activity under heaven".
On a farm everything generally happens at once. All of a sudden, after a winter of planning, repairing, dreaming, and preparing for it, the time arrives to begin the spring activities. Tobacco ground has been plowed and prepared, the hay is ripe and thick, the alfalfa is ready to be reseeded, a bag of soybeans need to be sown to enrich a field, fertilizer needs to be applied, weed control needs to be sprayed, cattle need to be worked, and bulls already sold need to be delivered.
And that was just the plans for Memorial Day Weekend.
Sometimes I think farmers have their clocks wound just a little too tight.
Saturday morning found everyone but the four-year old little girl checking their list of chores for the day. Even the little boys had their assignments. (Although by mid-afternoon they had wandered off to the creek to set the minnow trap.) The setter was ready, the hands hired for the day had arrived and Hubby and Son were in high gear! Our son was in charge of the tobacco patch and drove the tractor for the setter. Hubby was in the other tractor ready to sow seed. I was manning command central and keeping an eye out for any last minute errands. Our daughter-in-law was in charge of getting lunch picked up and delivered.
For once everything went off like clockwork. The weather was perfect and nothing broke down. The men had decided to put off cutting the hay crop until after the tobacco was set. We have done both in the same week-end before but it is a nightmare. Especially, since our Son is the operator of the big, round hay baler, which means he needs to be in two places at once. A bit stressful, to say the least.
When the last tobacco plant was in the ground, the seeds sown, the bulls delivered and chores done for the night, Hubby sits down and checks the evening weather report. With a moan he mumbles, "No! No!" Leaning over his shoulder, I see the 10 day forecast on his computer....rain, rain, showers, showers, rain....for the next 10 days!
Sadly, he looks out at his hay crop, which is picture perfect. Hay needs three days of good weather to cut, cure and bale. With each day of rain, his hay will be a little more mature and little less nutritious. He had hoped for a few more days of good weather. but it was not to be.
I gave him a hug and murmured, "You did what you had to do and there is nothing you can do to change things. Maybe the weather will change instead."
Yep, that guy that wrote Ecclesiastes knew what he was talking about when he went on to write in verses 4-5: "A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain."
With farming the time from laughter and dancing to weeping and mourning can sometimes be counted in hours. However, things usually manage to work out in the end. Ecclesiastes 3-13: "That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil--this is the gift of God."
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot."
* * * * * *
Farming has been going on as long as there have been people to feed. The writer of the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes obviously knew his farming and farmers. Spring is definitely the season for "every activity under heaven".
On a farm everything generally happens at once. All of a sudden, after a winter of planning, repairing, dreaming, and preparing for it, the time arrives to begin the spring activities. Tobacco ground has been plowed and prepared, the hay is ripe and thick, the alfalfa is ready to be reseeded, a bag of soybeans need to be sown to enrich a field, fertilizer needs to be applied, weed control needs to be sprayed, cattle need to be worked, and bulls already sold need to be delivered.
And that was just the plans for Memorial Day Weekend.
Sometimes I think farmers have their clocks wound just a little too tight.
Saturday morning found everyone but the four-year old little girl checking their list of chores for the day. Even the little boys had their assignments. (Although by mid-afternoon they had wandered off to the creek to set the minnow trap.) The setter was ready, the hands hired for the day had arrived and Hubby and Son were in high gear! Our son was in charge of the tobacco patch and drove the tractor for the setter. Hubby was in the other tractor ready to sow seed. I was manning command central and keeping an eye out for any last minute errands. Our daughter-in-law was in charge of getting lunch picked up and delivered.
For once everything went off like clockwork. The weather was perfect and nothing broke down. The men had decided to put off cutting the hay crop until after the tobacco was set. We have done both in the same week-end before but it is a nightmare. Especially, since our Son is the operator of the big, round hay baler, which means he needs to be in two places at once. A bit stressful, to say the least.
When the last tobacco plant was in the ground, the seeds sown, the bulls delivered and chores done for the night, Hubby sits down and checks the evening weather report. With a moan he mumbles, "No! No!" Leaning over his shoulder, I see the 10 day forecast on his computer....rain, rain, showers, showers, rain....for the next 10 days!
Sadly, he looks out at his hay crop, which is picture perfect. Hay needs three days of good weather to cut, cure and bale. With each day of rain, his hay will be a little more mature and little less nutritious. He had hoped for a few more days of good weather. but it was not to be.
I gave him a hug and murmured, "You did what you had to do and there is nothing you can do to change things. Maybe the weather will change instead."
Yep, that guy that wrote Ecclesiastes knew what he was talking about when he went on to write in verses 4-5: "A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain."
With farming the time from laughter and dancing to weeping and mourning can sometimes be counted in hours. However, things usually manage to work out in the end. Ecclesiastes 3-13: "That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil--this is the gift of God."
Monday, May 18, 2015
This Old "New" House
When we bought our farm we were delighted with the location, just a few miles from town where Hubby worked and the kids went to school. We were thrilled with the road frontage and the sturdy barns. The lush pastures and gently rolling fields were pleasing to the eye. However, the old farm house was just that...an old farm house. Like many farm houses, it had served its purpose over the years...lending shelter and comfort to hard working families. Also, like many old farms, the money for major improvements had been spent on barns, fences, fertilizer, seed, and equipment. Farm needs always taking precedence before house needs.
That first day, after Hubby had bought the farm, I stood on the hill looking out over the sensational view. Then I turned to the house and sighed. It was spacious and it did have my mother's farm requirements -- electricity and running water! But it lacked in the touches to make it welcoming. We had trees but no landscaping to soften the approach to the bare back door (all farm houses use the back door!) The kitchen (the heart of any home) was one wall of mismatched cabinets and pine subflooring whose splinters taught us quickly to wear shoes inside!! However, sweeping was easy. There were so many gaps between the boards that you just swept across and let the dirt fall through to the cellar.
It had one bath which was located out of the kitchen. This resulted in many funny (and sometimes not so funny) incidents over the years. If you plan to avail yourself of the facilities in our house, come equipped with a sense of humor! Our bedroom also opened into the kitchen, which is handy for quick snacks but rough on sleeping through teenagers playing cards on the kitchen table.
The entire house was a hodge-podge of additions, renovations, updates and make-do's from the families that had lived there over the years. We learned from a former resident that the house itself was built out of part of the original house that had been partially destroyed by a tornado. They just used the remaining walls left standing and built around them. Which explained why you might have three different types of walls in one room and not a square wall in the house!
While I was standing there that first day, thinking slightly depressing thoughts, Hubby walked up behind me and draped an arm over my shoulders. Hugging me, he murmured apologetically, "I know it's not the house you've always wanted." I nodded, wordlessly. "However," he continued, "if you'll just live here for five years I'll build you a new one. I promise!"
Little did either one of us know that it would take nearly 30 years and we would build that "new" house one renovation after another. We have just finished the last room from the original old house. A leak after the snow and ice of this winter started a round of repairs that ended with a new ceiling and new hardwood floors in the dining room, newly refinished hardwood floors in the kitchen and den (new during the remodeling fifteen years ago) and a fresh coat of paint on the three rooms.
With this round we have finally rebuilt every room of the old house. Each room was like an archeological dig, discovering artifacts along the way. Like the crumpled up 1950 newspapers used to insulate the bathroom walls, or the 14" baseboards that extended 8" below the floor in the upstairs bedroom. Like finding that the hall walls were held together with strips of masking tape over cracks in the old plaster and lathe walls. We've replaced windows, insulated, roofed, stripped paper, papered, put down floors, replaced the siding, even replaced a wall in the cellar. We've added rooms, a porch ( then used part of that porch for another room), landscaped, planted and pruned, and loved every inch of the old homestead.
In return, the old house has seen us through children, grandchildren, celebrations, mourning, heartache and happiness. We have shared its space and shade with friends, family, and, occasionally, passing strangers. It has sheltered us through times of laughter and tears, sickness and health.
The old farmhouse is no longer something to be endured but rather a beloved home.
Hubby always keeps his promises....
Eventually....
Sort of.
That first day, after Hubby had bought the farm, I stood on the hill looking out over the sensational view. Then I turned to the house and sighed. It was spacious and it did have my mother's farm requirements -- electricity and running water! But it lacked in the touches to make it welcoming. We had trees but no landscaping to soften the approach to the bare back door (all farm houses use the back door!) The kitchen (the heart of any home) was one wall of mismatched cabinets and pine subflooring whose splinters taught us quickly to wear shoes inside!! However, sweeping was easy. There were so many gaps between the boards that you just swept across and let the dirt fall through to the cellar.
It had one bath which was located out of the kitchen. This resulted in many funny (and sometimes not so funny) incidents over the years. If you plan to avail yourself of the facilities in our house, come equipped with a sense of humor! Our bedroom also opened into the kitchen, which is handy for quick snacks but rough on sleeping through teenagers playing cards on the kitchen table.
The entire house was a hodge-podge of additions, renovations, updates and make-do's from the families that had lived there over the years. We learned from a former resident that the house itself was built out of part of the original house that had been partially destroyed by a tornado. They just used the remaining walls left standing and built around them. Which explained why you might have three different types of walls in one room and not a square wall in the house!
While I was standing there that first day, thinking slightly depressing thoughts, Hubby walked up behind me and draped an arm over my shoulders. Hugging me, he murmured apologetically, "I know it's not the house you've always wanted." I nodded, wordlessly. "However," he continued, "if you'll just live here for five years I'll build you a new one. I promise!"
Little did either one of us know that it would take nearly 30 years and we would build that "new" house one renovation after another. We have just finished the last room from the original old house. A leak after the snow and ice of this winter started a round of repairs that ended with a new ceiling and new hardwood floors in the dining room, newly refinished hardwood floors in the kitchen and den (new during the remodeling fifteen years ago) and a fresh coat of paint on the three rooms.
With this round we have finally rebuilt every room of the old house. Each room was like an archeological dig, discovering artifacts along the way. Like the crumpled up 1950 newspapers used to insulate the bathroom walls, or the 14" baseboards that extended 8" below the floor in the upstairs bedroom. Like finding that the hall walls were held together with strips of masking tape over cracks in the old plaster and lathe walls. We've replaced windows, insulated, roofed, stripped paper, papered, put down floors, replaced the siding, even replaced a wall in the cellar. We've added rooms, a porch ( then used part of that porch for another room), landscaped, planted and pruned, and loved every inch of the old homestead.
In return, the old house has seen us through children, grandchildren, celebrations, mourning, heartache and happiness. We have shared its space and shade with friends, family, and, occasionally, passing strangers. It has sheltered us through times of laughter and tears, sickness and health.
The old farmhouse is no longer something to be endured but rather a beloved home.
Hubby always keeps his promises....
Eventually....
Sort of.
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