Never let go of the rope

When you have been farming as long as my husband and I have — most of his life and all of mine — you embrace and respect the ups and downs of agriculture. You learn to face the challenges of the day as they come and move through them carefully, thoughtfully, and with determination to move on to the next day.

At the dawn of this year, we knew the cost of operating the farm was going to be a challenge. But the old adage, “never let go of the rope,” seemed fitting. For the uninitiated, “never let go of the rope” originates from cowboy days. Once you get a rope on a wild horse or calf, you don’t let go. You hold on with more stubborn than that wild critter and just make it give up. Now, arguably, there are better ways to gentle an animal but if we’ve met you know I’m about as stubborn as they come. So I like keeping to at least the notion of “never let go of the rope.”

As predicted, costs for everything, for everyone, have gone up horribly and quickly. We are sympathetic to those cost increases because we feel them as much as anyone. We feel the pinch of more money for fewer things in the grocery cart and fewer gallons in the tank. We also feel the pinch of rising fertilizer, parts, equipment maintenance, baling supplies, and other on-farm input costs.

We cannot promise we will be the least expensive feed around but we can promise we will continue to strive to be the best quality we can offer for the most competitive price we can offer while still keeping the farm a viable business for years to come. “Never let go of the rope” means figuring out how to be stubborn enough to keep the farm running and, right now, that is what we are doing.

We appreciate you being here and trusting us with the feeding and care of your livestock.

Too hot to handle

Memorial Day Weekend seems like a lifetime ago.
Things here on the farm have been endlessly busy, as they often are in June. Our first cutting of hay was put up in big, beautiful bales, stacked, and the whole lot was sold a few weeks later. Thank goodness for our buyers. Without them, we wouldn’t be a farm anymore.
We were able to get our corn flown by helicopter (!) for weeds and pests before things got out of hand. And we’ve just finished cultivating it in the last few days. For those not familiar with the PNW lingo of “cultivating,” it means running a tractor with several hoes through the ditches to pull up the dead weeds. We outfit ours with fertilizer tanks at the same time so we get a twofer out of one pass through the field.
Now, we’re in the midst of the hottest temps I can ever remember in June and, boy howdy, it is hot. Everywhere in the west has been hot this year and I guess Mother Nature decided it was our turn to get a taste of it. The peak is supposed to hit us Tuesday with a wallop at 115 degrees.
We are, and will continue to be, hustling in our fields to keep our crops well hydrated as possible as we ride out this rough patch.
If you can, throw a cool drink back for us. I’m partial to the cool fizz of a Topo Chico on a hot day. If you’ve never tried one, maybe give it a go. You might like it too.

Memorial Day

Despite being observed on the last Monday of May, Memorial Day is traditionally celebrated on May 30.

Jim and I are humbled and honored to call a great many present and former military service members family and friends. We are also extraordinarily fortunate to not have grieved for the loss of any of them during active duty.

My family has gathered at the farm to celebrate this holiday weekend with food, fellowship, and a sense of humor for as long as I can remember. But we are also mindful of the importance of the day and of the losses felt by so many around us.

Rural America, and farm families in particular, are riddled with grief during the Memorial Day Holiday. While rural communities make up just 17 percent of the total population of the United States, their community members make up approximately 20 percent of our active duty military servicemen and servicewomen. The sacrifices of rural communities and agricultural families in an effort to protect and preserve the freedoms we all are so accustomed to is something for which we should always be grateful.

So, as we did tonight around a campfire made in the middle of an old tractor tire rim, I hope you will find the time to raise your glass to those lost this year — and in the many years before — and remember that freedom is not free; it is a gift given with the volunteerism of a great many, some of whom never returned to the loved ones waiting for them.

And, to the families who are remembering a lost loved one this Memorial Day, we offer a prayer for your family and for the passage of your fallen solider.