Pumpkin Bars and Cows

It's early morning here and the house is filled with the aroma of pumpkin- enticing me to snack on a few of the cream-cheese covered goodies before we head out the door to church. It is still warm here- 82 yesterday - but the humidity is gone and the mornings are crisp, lacking the looming haze of summer.

Harvest has started- a time of all-consuming work for our neighbors. Last year about this time, I heard an older friend mention that once harvest started, the roads would be treacherous until winter. I chuckled at the comment back then- thinking, "Right, those two vehicles I passed yesterday really were overwhelming!" The fact is, the roads are so barren here that even during harvest they don't begin to compare to even Washington side-street traffic.

A few days ago I was talking with the Mayor of my small town and we started discussing his trucking business - where he is the safety director. They haul seed corn this time of year for one of the local seed companies. He said he had not had a day off since Labor Day, and probably wouldn't see a break in the schedule for three more weeks. The guys, he said, usually work from about 4am to 11pm this time of year. Seven days a week.

At night you can see pairs of headlights slowly crawling across the landscape miles away. With hundreds of acres to harvest (sometimes thousands) our farmers have to be out there every minute the weather will permit them to be.

It has me thinking, though- maybe the roads are treacherous not because there are thousands of people driving them, but because the people who ARE on the roads are working on weeks of little to no sleep.

By the way- agricultural work pays no overtime.

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With winter around the corner, I have noticed that we are getting better about preparing for the season. Last year we bumbled into it without much thought to preparation. This year we are replacing storm windows in the dining room, replacing our furnace, sweeping the chimneys, caulking around windows and replacing weather-stripping on doors. It feels great to work toward a warmer house and therefore a warmer winter.

In doing our prep work, we needed to address the machine shed. Last spring during a windstorm one of the doors on the large Morton building did cartwheels over a friend's camper and our windbreak. After dragging the door back from the farmer's unplanted field, it sat, crumpled, all summer. Upon calling the manufacturer of our machine shed, I was given an estimated replacement cost of $3500. Since we do have homeowners insurance, it would have only cost us our deductible of $1000. Not too excited about this extra and unexpected expense, we put it off until fall. However, we have a farmer who rents half of the building from us, and it was necessary that we replace the door before winter so that all of his machinery doesn't end up covered with snow.

How I know that we are becoming more like a farm family and less like a city family is how this door was replaced. Because we could have hired it done. Or jumped early on and bought a new track, new metal, and new wood to build another door (since I am married to a carpenter) and spent only around $700.

But we didn't. And three weeks ago Phil, through work, replaced the siding on an old barn. One of the items removed was this large section of track (a $300 value new). They didn't want it, and were happy to send it home with Phil. With some minor adaptations, he was able to put it up on our machine shed. With help (at different times) from his dad and my dad, the sheet metal was removed from the old door and salvaged. We bought new wood to build a frame and within a few days and collaboration from both father's and Phil's grandpa, our entire door was replaced. With hardware and all, we put about $250 into the door. Now, granted, it isn't new, and it isn't glamorous. It needs to be cleaned and painted - but you know what? Even in its ugly state, it works. It keeps heat in and snow out. The duct-tape and shoestring solution to a huge problem - done with patience and practicality.

And it's a good thing to have it fixed- because we have two of these guys in there now. Yes, the petting zoo grows. We can't get too attached to these ones, though, because they are not going to be life-long members of the family, if you know what I mean. So, even though they are bottlefed calves, Phil is in charge of their caretaking.

Calves? WHAT are you guys doing with cows?

Good question. Its another part of rural living, I suppose. Strange opportunities come your way quite often, we are finding. One of Phil's coworkers has a sister who owns a dairy in Wisconsin (probably the best colby cheese I have ever tasted). When they have male calves, they don't have much use for them- and since they have to be bottle-fed, they usually sell them for a pretty low price. She cut her brother a deal, and he drove up to pick up two calves- one for us and one for him. He provides the milk-replacer and the cows, and we feed and graze them. So, the trade is a cow for labor and land. So, winter preparations also now include making barn space for the sheep and cows and putting up adequate hay. Phew. I'm tired even writing it.

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We have still been working on manners with Ryan. My favorite new phrases from him is "Please May I."

Cookie!

Is that how you ask?

Please may i....have a Cookie!

Sure!

And though it fits almost every situation, he does take it a bit out of context:

(Mom singing)

Stop it!

That's not nice, Ryan.

Please may I...Stop it!

Grandpa! Come to dinner! Please may I...have you sit down!

He also shows some interesting affection to his little brother. Mostly, he doesn't pay a lot of attention to David, except for telling me when he is "mad". Yesterday we were driving between towns, and David decided he was hungry and just might die if he didn't eat RIGHT NOW!! At one point his cries stopped for a moment, and I glanced back in the rear view mirror. Here was Ryan, holding his little brother's hand like "It's OK kid, it's going to be just fine."

Melts a mamma's heart.