Skip spring, turn right for summer

A perfect evening for drilling soybeans

Somehow the entire month of May eluded me, well, from the blogging side of life. Overlooking the constant, almost scheduled-like rains planting did occur with a few forays into a coffeehouse here and there. And Scooter had a great time with Boomer.

While hubs toiled away in the dry soil (that later turned to worrisome dry powder-like, soil-resembling stuff that was supposed to grow plants) I darted between rain showers with Dad finishing the last of the planter prep. A late April blizzard will do things like that; freeze field and planter prep right where they stand. This snowballs into a whole variety of things like late seed delivery, any field tillage is now ‘late’, and the list goes on.

A look at the weather forecast showed mud-like weather – cold, damp and potentially windy. I packed accordingly with a couple of t-shirts thrown in last minute over the long-sleeved t-shirts and hoodie. Yeah, that lasted all of five days. 

Then I was sweltering in the standard farmer work gear: jeans, t-shirt, ballcap and boots. Half of my duffle bag (Yes, it’s hot pink. Why? Because it’s color. It’s not denim blue or ball cap black.) I think the thermometer got confused when it went from the chipper cool damp to blazin’ hot and humid summer, its-time-to-bbq weather.

What no one remembers is when it’s that hot out farmers are still working. Working because they love the job aka life and working to feed the world. Yes, tractors nowadays have ac but when the temps are outrageously hot the ac doesn’t work at full blast. Low or medium fan speed ensures it will last the day with you but a sauna-like atmosphere does develop. Non-insulated water bottles very quickly turn warm. I may have experienced this phenomenon myself and warm water does not feel hydrating (or tempting to drink).

While I did have the questionable pleasure of warm drinking water it did occur because I was out drilling soy beans. I left my seat customized to Dad’s height because it was easier (maybe a tad lazy?!) and it’s planting time, there’s no time to mess around with lowering or raising the seat. Just drive. And plant.

Anyways, it took me all of two rounds that maybe I had been a tad short-sighted in not adjusting the seat. I’m average height-ish and my Dad is a whole lot taller (6’6”). So when I’m making the lovely keyhole turns with my little train I have one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the levers to raise the drill. 

Haven't quite mastered the whole 'selfie with air drill' thing

Clearly, I had forgotten that it can be a bit rough as I cross the headlands, going against the grain, so to speak. On a good run my toes will attempt to stick like glue to the floor but any other time I’m literally on an air-ride seat.

It’s a disconcerting feeling. Honestly, I could’ve fixed that problem but I wouldn’t have had the patience to raise it back for Dad when he commandeered the rig from me. It’s an interesting view from that high up; plus, I can see over the hood to where I’m going (and maybe drill a straight line, a worthy endeavor as a little meandering tends to occur as I enjoy the scenery).

With cold water, ac on low and sunscreen (fair skin needs love) it was planting season on the rolling prairies. My trusty farm pup entertained the senior farm dog in the cool breeze of the ac inside the house. Life was great, if a bit too hot.

May your week be full of summer breezes, BBQ’s and iced coffees.

A classy farm pup who likes his flowers

Giving thanks for harvest end

Dressed for comfort in layers for Last Day of Harvest. PC to Dad

Inhale the frost-edged air and exhale an opaque, silvery plume. Delicate, fantastic designs swirl and dance over crisp leaves and up ramrod-straight stalks. Ears of corn rest in their husk jackets safe from the frost. Below the tassels, golden leaves pause in their gentle wave like banners frozen in a moment.

My last day of harvest for 2017 started with such a day. I had to take a couple of minutes to enjoy the novelty and wonder how frost always turns out such ethereal beauty. It gave my combine a different look, especially the windshield. As the frost retreated in the warmth of the sleepy sun it was time to begin the process of starting the combine. It most definitely grumbled to life and took its dear sweet time to warm up and defrost.

This was one of my favorite final days of harvest. Why? Well, it was such a beautiful day and I could cruise to the finish line. Now the cruise was more of a casual saunter with the time to be picky to make sure the cut was excellent. It has to look good from the road, don't ya know.

I saved the final round for Dad so he could officially end harvest. Also, I thought he deserved a little fun time. What better way to end harvest than with the last, easy round on a gorgeous day? As we’re cruising and eating up the final rows, I look over. I see a fat opossum (with a bad hair day) in a waddling jog on the other side of this baby draw, racing us. (I thought he was cheating since he was running between the rows, ha.) The monitor shows a ground speed of 3.5 mph and this dude is keeping up with us. We estimated he kept up the good fight, er, race for about 100 feet before the lack of oxygen on his part sidelined him. Mouth breathers. Everyone knows you’re supposed to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth for an efficient breathing strategy.

How did harvest yield? Well, like everyone says, better than expected. If you’re looking for specific numbers, well, you should know by now that farmers are coy when it comes to that. Similar to back in the day when ladies would flutter their ornate fans as they danced around a question (or flirtation).

A nice sight, minus the dirty windows of course

Best part? Done before Thanksgiving. It’s kind of unfortunate for me because then I’m at Mom’s mercy for doing the weird little jobs for food prep.(You can only have so many chefs in the kitchen.) I’d rather clean the house and set the table. Then I don’t have to wash the hordes of dishes that mysteriously appear after the feast. And this is after the dishwasher is filled. Yikes. The dog said he would clean only so many plates and then he would have to take a nap. I’m kidding, I don’t let the dog help ‘clean’ the plates. That is for fairy tales.

Well, I’m off to begin the pre-cleaning of the actual cleaning process of the house. If I’m quick-like, I might get to work outside and get the combine prepped for winter storage. Ahh, the life of a motivator. Sometimes I wish I was a tad bit more lazy but then I would be bored.

May your harvest wrap-up be sweet, (American) Thanksgiving a time with family and the pie outstanding. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Time to put my feet up, ish. Still work to do. (repost from Insta & FB)

A little hard work

A 'helpful' farm pup

The morning woke sleepily, blanketed in heavy fog while dawn stretched lazily above the grounded clouds. Ninety days or so we’ll have a nice storm of some variety (snow or rain), right before Thanksgiving, the American one. Where trees once stood is a plot of bare earth waiting for a new beginning and perhaps some fun, creative landscaping.

Last week the tree guy was here lying to rest diseased poplars and filling in an old, dry well and a dugout. The dugout had a faint sense of whimsy to it shaded by trees like a pond but was overburdened by the unpleasant assault on the nose of green algae overgrowth. It had to go. We’re prepping the pasture for the future arrival of my horses. Once the pasture and barn are ready, then my horses get to travel internationally. Looking over the existing fence that used to keep two sheep and a mini donkey in, which I’m still unsure of how exactly, I could see that it would need some work considering most of the poles were pretty shaky. I’m talking wooden poles with page wire. My horses would lean on that and in no time be out strolling in the corn, being naughty or racing around the yard with the wind in their manes.

Hubs said we’ll just rip it out. Like it was going to easy and fun, he thought. I said sure, you can rip it out and I’ll put the new one in. Pulling out the wooden poles (meh) versus pounding t-posts in and snapping insulators on? Yup, I’ll take the t-posts. Of course, I’ll have to go buy them and do the whole load/unload song and dance. No one tells you that unloading is harder because they turn into spaghetti, hooking and twining around each other. I get a call from hubs… he wants help pulling out the poles.

My handiwork, one at a time, it was a tough job.

Who would have thought that getting in and out of the little backhoe to chain up each individual pole would be annoying and tiring? He’d made it a quarter of the way around the pasture, not bad. Ever the gentleman he said I could operate the backhoe. So thrilling… raise the bucket, out pops the pole, lower the bucket and drive to the next. I did what any self-respecting farm wife would do… I earn my callused hands, plus I wanted to get my steps in. And a little quality time with the sun for some vitamin D never hurts. (I walked eight miles that day, total, not just the pasture, it’s not that big.) So I walked the pasture, chaining and unchaining each pole and then went back and loaded the gator for hubs. Of course, the trusty farm pup was right there supervising. This is when he wasn’t off ‘helping’ pick up sticks and spreading them back out around the pasture. And somehow he found mud or the mud found him.

A little hard work goes a long way.

The wheat harvest finished Friday evening right before the ‘big rain.’ This big rain on Saturday evening turned out to be a nice light show to the south as tendrils of rain teased us to the west as a gorgeous sunset shone through. However, on those rare days of harvest transition between crops we had a date night. I love farming but it is nice to get off the farm once in a while for a nice meal out and coffee (that I didn’t have to cook or wash the dishes.)

Canola swaths

The tribute to August is on as its final days roll by before we segue into September with sultry heat and a wind that taunts you with hints of a fall chill to come. The trucks are rolling, combines rumbling and radios squawking Charlie Brown-style as canola harvest hits its stride.

Canola. Photo credit to Dave

 May your final days of August be warm, the iced coffee cool and your steed (vehicle, truck, combine, etc.) trusty.

Combining that canola. Photo courtesy of Dave

Planting 2017

Wahoo! It’s PLANTING time! Who’s excited?!

Me, that’s who. I’ve got my trusty sidekick with this time, his name is Scooter. Of course, there’s dad too. He has the ‘boring’ job of running the planter. It has its own unique and charming characteristics of the monitor beeping and chirping every three to five seconds telling you GPS blipped out, a border is approaching, air pressure/seed volume is low in ‘x’ row, etc. 

Then there’s the multitude of phone calls that I get from dad. As the in-house (family) tech expert on these matters I get to explain the beeps, blips and gremlin-like moments with the monitor and/or planter itself. What can I say? I really enjoy making the brain work and troubleshoot ‘x’ problem. 

So, I’m over here looking at the weather forecast thinking that it’s going to be great and sunny. Perfect planting weather, it’s right there in the forecast; well, if you read between the lines that is. Imagine my dismay and shock (bummer, guess I have time for a cuppa joe) when the app opens and tells me it’s going to be rainy with an excellent chance of being snow. Huh. In May?!

I guess weirder weather events have happened already this year (tornado in March by the Twin Cities anyone?) so what’s another? The plan for some discing and then planting has been modified to plant like crazy only. The co-op may be involved with some pre-fert put down or doing a burn down spray on a field or two for us. Again, that rests on the cooperative nature of weather which we know is as fickle as the wind. 

Back in Canuckland farmers are digging in to the fields and seeding like it’s spring. Oh wait it IS spring. Sadly for some friends and farmers in the surrounding areas, their soil is still too wet to seed. So the competitive bug, err, itch to seed is worse. And for the confetti on this cupcake season of planting there’s rain forecasted for early on this week. Yay. 

Ready for seeding

Cheers to all my farmers, may the sun and soil be warm, planting (or seeding) go smoothly and the rain come as needed.