My what big ears you have Mr. Wolf

Dad taking it out for a spin

You know the feeling of someone staring at you from across the room? Right, well, I’m out cruising at warp speed combining soybeans and singing with the radio when I feel the force shift. Maintaining a straight line, it’s got to look good from the road you know, and looking around for the eyes staring at me is a challenge. For some reason the wheel tends to turn when I’m twisting every which way, color me baffled.

I reach the end of the swath, do a sweet turning spin, and continue back across the field. Then I see the source of the force shift. A big dog was out, keeping pace with me. He appeared to be waiting for me to go by so he could stick his big nose down the big gopher holes and look for a snack on the go. What a nosy neighbor! At first, I thought he was a coyote because I knew there was a den a mile or so away. I rumble closer. Yeah, he was a big, bad wolf!

It's too bad that my camera phone doesn't do justice to this animal. Of course, when he was closer, did I think to grab my phone and take a photo?! Of course not! Grrr, so frustrating.

Clearly it was time to rethink just bailing out of the cab to do a walk around checking over the combine. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to run fast enough back and up into the cab. Hmmmm.

As we trolled the field together-ish I did note that he appeared to be well-fed with a plush, thick pelt so at least I know that I wasn’t necessarily on the menu (should we have had an impromptu meet ‘n’ greet). And he (or she) was completely unconcerned to be seen so close to a human. Actually, I was surprised to see Mr. Wolf in that field as it’s so close to neighbors and the farm yard. I suppose that a gopher-on-the-go snack was the lure.

The next day I’m happily sipping my coffee and following the same route. Birds happily flutter overhead, the sun is mega bright, the wind rustles proud bean stalks and no gophers in sight. The gophers were doing a lot of home remodeling, apparently, so I helpfully filled it all back in again. Every swath there was a handful to scrape off and fill in holes.

Filling in gopher holes and apparently we grow these too

I trolley back over a hill and there’s Mr. Wolf with big, furry ears pricked forward watching me, hoping that all the rumbling will wake some gophers up. Maybe the smell of coffee would wake them up? Well, not my coffee. I need that.

As I walk to my truck at the end of the day and with one last sleepy wink from the sun, I hear the wolves’ howling laughter riding the breeze.

May your week be dry, toasty warm in the cab and harvest be on point.

P.S. So thankful to be done with all the gates. Open the gate, close the gate. Rinse and repeat.

P.P.S. So pheasant hunting is in full swing and I haven't seen many birds at all. Unusual. Then yesterday morning going to church I see 10 pheasants having their morning meeting in the cemetery. I guess it was a managment meeting on how to avoid hunters. I've never seen so many ring necks in place before. It turns out they're camera shy or they don't want social media to tag their location.

Over rocks and hills

Last week I wrote about finding contentment in harvest. Each day was a new challenge in finding contentment. It’s not like buying a gallon of milk; you buy it and you have it. Well, turns out it’s a little more challenging when you have to worry about rocks.

There’s this one field that has beautiful rolling hills… and rocks. Well, why don’t we pick them? Actually, I’ve been out there picking more rocks and building character one rock at a time than I care to remember. I’ve smashed the occasional finger when my brain is slow on the draw to tell my hands to release the rock. Somehow these rocks are like raccoons. Always there where you don’t want them and when you relocate them, more are there when you turn around (or return to the field).

I do a lot of ‘raise the head, hit the resume button’ over and over when I’m on the lower downside half of these hills. Of course, I might have gotten caught up in admiring how pretty some of those rocks are… and then about give myself a heart attack when I look right (to area of the header hidden by my monitor) to see I’m this close to scooping a large rock. 

Blue skies and rain spits coming my way

Yeah, those moments aren’t fun. Right at number two to that moment is the time you think you hear a rock rattling in your head and grinding so lightning fast reflexes kick in and flick the switches off while turning down the engine speed. This happened as I was opening up a new field.

Here’s what to do when it’s been a long week, it’s Friday and almost five o’clock.

1)      Completely forget that a few palm-sized rocks like to hide in the baby draw that runs in your first three swaths.

2)      Forge ahead confident in your mad combining skills.

3)      Realize that you’re racing through that baby draw and belatedly be aware of how the head is flexing (or not).

4)      Hear that heart-breaking sound of grinding metal and a rock-like ricochet on metal.

5)      Quick like turn everything off, raise the head and back away cautiously.

6)      Shrug and park the combine to continue moving everything else over.

7)      Resume combining.

8)      Realize that the auger in the header is NOT turning like it should.

9)      The dread sinks in.

10)   Poke around, open the side hatch and see the chain, broken.

11)   Congratulations!  You’ve won an early stop to the day! You broke the chain in not one, not two place but FOUR. And several little links roll away…

Yeah, I can do a really good job sometimes. Now I really appreciate those practically zen-like moments combining fields that don’t have rocks. And when contentment came so much easier.

I do a 'good' job, poor little guy

 May your week be the anti-thesis of rocky, clear skies on your radar and the wind not blow you away.

A photo of French Silk pie because I can & it was delicious

Finding contentment in harvest

Hubs up flying back home

The sun winks sleepily in golden orange rays before bursting over the horizon to start the morning. Frost highlights every blade of grass in silver, muting the vibrant emerald green as a light, cold wind tickles the trees. Soybeans, tall and unbending, take on a pale silver hue waiting for the sun’s rays to chase the frost away.

I love frosty mornings. It’s cold enough to make you appreciate the warmth of the truck cab but not that biting, nipping cold usually found in the dead of winter. And it makes the hot coffee all the more precious. I have found myself half way to the truck before realizing I’d left my coffee back in the house on the counter. You know I ran back to the house to snatch up that mug of morning happiness.

Learning the hard way is not always fun but when it’s a heavy frost morning and I parked the combine facing north or west; I learned quickly it pays to always park it facing east. A gunky, wet windshield makes bean dust stick quite well. Even after I’ve wiped it down. Uff da.

Up hill at this point

This week defined in one word: content. It’s nice to be back and combining the gently rolling hills, seeing the beans fill up tank after tank in my combine.  And I always enjoy working with my dad.

Finding contentment in harvest is tricky, especially this season. A late frost, almost the middle of October, and six inches of rain a couple weeks prior combine with the nice weather to delay the start of harvest. I was asked ‘aren’t you worried about getting harvest done with this late start and the occasional rain popping up?’

Well, I figure I could get myself all worked up with worry and anxiety. I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I ever not worry and get anxious but I do try my best to not let it get the better of me. Harvest is a season and a time to give thanks that all your hard work is coming to fruition. And it will end. I much prefer the me that enjoys the harvest, the day working to get as many acres off possible without leaving beans behind to the me that is wound tight with worry and anxiety and dreads the work day. And I sleep better when the worry is limited to a small box (not an extra-large) that I carry with me, metaphorically.

I hope you can be content this harvest and enjoy what your land has produced. It may be less or more than you expected depending on the weather. But the harvest is always more than if you hadn’t planted in spring, right?

There are more photos over on my Instagram and Facebook, should you be curious. :)

May your week be content, the frost light and the bushels heavy.

Needs more beauty sleep apparently. Photo credit to hubs

Thanks giving

Helping soil test

Today is THE day. I’m finally heading south snowbird-style. Sadly, I’m not a true snowbird; I’m not retired or show the passing of many decades in my face. Or, not sadly, I like working, I feel productive. I was supposed to be south over a week earlier but hey, just shy of six inches of rain in one week will muck up any plans for harvest. By the time you read this I’ll have the wind in my hair, the sun on my face and the miles racking up behind me. Unless you’re one of those perky, chipper sorts that wake before the birds then I might be throwing the duffel into the truck and then on the road. With coffee, okay, two travel mugs of coffee. Thanks to a bestie and an early Christmas gift (she’s got all her Christmas shopping done, BEFORE October) I have a 24oz mug. Yeah! Talk about the extra coffee. :)

Sun bathing, er, napping

 And while I’m driving through Canuckland all the stores will be closed in deference to Thanksgiving. I’ll be honest; it takes some getting used to having Thanksgiving in October and two in one year. This year, I’m actually around to celebrate Canuck Thanksgiving with hubs, his family and siblings (and my super cute little niece). It’s nice to actually be around and celebrate with them.

With this dry year we’ve had, we’re combining corn already. So Canuck Thanksgiving and American Thanksgiving both have corn harvest in common this year. It feels a little bit like home. Oddly enough we haven’t gotten a hard freeze yet either but the corn P7527 is coming off at 25% moisture. Not bad, considering no frost. The P7211 came off at 21.5%. Whoa.

This looks the same as the last round

My experience with corn moisture is along the lines of ‘whoa, pull that combine back and go drink coffee or fix something.’ Here in hub’s world, 21.5% moisture is within their optimal range for combining. Of course, it takes a detour through the dryer then to an aeration bin, while still hot, to take another half to one percent moisture out. From there, it’s transferred to a bin for storage.

Hubs asked if I wanted to combine some corn this past week. The big green machine sat ready with its ridiculous-looking chopping head on. (When I’m used to seeing a 20 inch – 12 row – 20 feet corn head, a 30 inch – 8 row – 20 feet head looks funky in comparison.) Now normally I jump at every opportunity to combine (it’s fun!) but I’ll be honest. The green machine doesn’t have the quietest cab ever. And it’s louder when harvesting corn than, say, beans. 

One of my failings is that I’m prone to headaches. A rumbling combine, the odd combo of whistling and rattling golden corn stalks as they disappear into the whirling chopping knives, the weighted thunks of ears of corn bouncing into the head and the crunching thunder of the ears passing through the rotor, the lost silence of corn shelling – separated and cleaned – and finally, the dull, glass-edged shatter of clean grain raining down in the holding tank. All of that pure sound filtering through the cab is enough to give me a migraine. My lovely red combine muffles that enough where it’s bearable and I can also listen to the radio. Win.

May your week be full of gratitude, the crops dry and your coffee nearby.

PS Thank you to my hubs for the photos this week. :)