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

Pre-planting ponderings

Murphy the cat joins in for the tail end of the walk.

Somehow two weeks have flown by! I’d like to say I’ve been a busy bee but bees aren’t out ‘n’ about quite yet so perhaps more like a productive robin (?). It kind of works but not as catchy. Hmm, oh well. The pre-planting fervor has only gotten stronger and with the snow finally melted off, seed deliveries, warm sunshine and light winds… You can see how any farmer would be itching to get into the field. About the only deterrent yet is the possibility of getting stuck in the mud. (Although hubs is hoping to roll into a light start at the week’s end.)

Hubs and Scooter are busy putting the final touches and updates on the planter. Well, Scooter is more in the role of resting his eyes under the planter or supervising from his sun tanning in front of the shop doors. The cats, of course, using him as their cushion. Meanwhile, I’ve plotted out my garden and am prepping to head south for planting.

I debated and debated over starting seeds in the house this year. It mostly hinged on planting plans and my actual motivation to do the work of starting seedlings and keep up with the watering. Hubs encouraged me to start a few anyways this year. He even said he would spritz down the seed trays while I’m gone!

A nice way to unwind from a day of hard work, or busy work, is going for a walk. We try to walk every night with a few exceptions for meetings or catching up with friends. This is no Sunday saunter but a brisk, power walk. Guaranteed to cover serious ground. A nice side benefit of these evening walks is that they wear out the dog. Because all that ‘walking’ Scooter does during the day isn’t enough exercise for a high-energy dog like him.

For something new and diverting from those all-consuming planting/seeding thoughts, we went bowling with our church family this past weekend. I haven’t gone bowling since I moved to Canuckland. Even then, it’s been a few years yet. I was excited because it’s fun and I usually have a decent score.

Well. We walk in and request our shoes. I’m looking around to see what bowling ball I want. Hubs heads over to our lane and I follow still trying to figure out where the bowling balls are at. Color me confused. We all enjoy a nice laugh with hubs over his pink shoes. Mine were the standard color. I’m talking away when I’m tapped for my turn to bowl. I walk up to grab a ball from the return area.

The balls are the size of soft balls approximately. No finger holes at all. I turn to my group and ask if they were serious. Yup, they were and hilarity ensued. Guys, I felt like I was at a ball game or at a track meet for shot put.

Then I look down the lane. It couldn’t get worse, or different right? I count and count again. I was starting to wonder if the glow bowl lights were making me see things. I counted only five pins. Yup, the other lanes all had only five pins. Since when was five-pin bowling a thing?

I go for a nice sliding soft lunge for my throw. Only my wrist remained locked and the ball went for a hard left straight into the gutter. Not even close to the pins. This whole throwing a bowling ball that fits into your hand with no finger holes thing was a unique experience. Let’s just say if I was golfing I would have had first placed locked in. Hubs on the other hand, had some serious flair when he was bowling. He had this arm wind up reminiscent of baseball and then this leg kick as he leaned into the throw. Too bad I didn’t think to take a photo, perhaps it was because we were so entertained with his antics.

May your week be filled with warm sunshine, robins chirping nearby and a full cup of coffee.

Silence calls to me

A frosty evening

The past two weeks I haven’t posted; I opened my word document and let the cursor blink for a couple of minutes. Then I closed it and put my laptop away. What to write?

Farming is at a nail-biting, anxiety-inducing lull. The in-between, stretched out moment of waiting. It’s neither winter nor spring; judging by the snow and frigid temps. Oh and the forecast is saying snow this weekend.

The silence calls to me.

It’s the peace before the storm, the flurry of activity that we fondly know as planting. This is followed by a season of hard work, sweat, rain (hopefully), spraying, cultivating and finally harvest. Not necessarily in this order although harvest is usually the culmination. 😊

It’s a time of going farther down the work/repair list and doing those little things, the final spit polish. And apparently, it’s the beginning of auction season. I still lack the ability to follow an auctioneer so I volunteer to hold the place down and do bookwork (and maybe blog).

The silence calls to me.

I search for words to describe the beauty of hoar frost that we had visit us for a couple of days. A photo barely does it justice. The words? Well, the soft silence and sheer enjoyment gently closed the door on any words. Some things are better appreciated in the moment.

Creativity’s spark was muted and quiet. I appreciated the coffee moments with friends more. The usual endless racing litany of words, ideas, phrases, scenes and on serenely strolled on by in my mind; without demanding they form as words on paper, to wait for another day.

The silence calls to me.

The call isn’t a shout for attention, it’s a soft whisper like a willow tree gently waving in an unseen breath of wind, to come sit and stay a while. The silence is peaceful and a welcoming place to gather thoughts and order the passion, the zest for life.

Life can neither be ordered nor can it be predicted. If you sit and stay a while in the silence calling, you can plan the steps to direct it. A time to mull and savor ideas.

All kinds of thoughts and plans happening!

The silence calls to me (it doesn’t say much). It rarely calls often and it’s like a good friend you see once in a great while so you take the time to sit and catch up. Life shouldn’t be always lived uber busy, although its nice, silence every now and a rare then is pleasant. Sometimes its exactly what you didn’t need in the ‘now’ but in the ‘then’ it was perfect.

May your week of ‘sprinter’ (spring & winter) find you contentment, coffee with friends and robins on the lawn.