I’m not sure why, but the sight of a tractor in the field south of my house this morning is the first sign that has made me believe that Spring might actually be here.
Though, the fact that it is maybe going to SNOW this weekend does dampen my enthusiasm somewhat.
Went out to the farm last night.
The grass was so gloriously green. The field on the left had just been cultivated so it was a nice deep brown. It likely got planted today. Mark is out farming today and said it was mostly dry. They’ve been pretty antsy to get into the field. I think my mother-in-law is the one that is the most relieved, I’m sure my father-in-law was starting to drive her a bit nuts.
Over on the right, at the top of the picture, just beyond that dark lump (which is a pile of old fence posts: that’s where the Bunny Tree can be found. Well, tree(s) plural. Where the bunnies live. And where our family pets go to eternally chase the bunnies under the bunny trees. For those that don’t know, my puppy Maggie unexpectedly passed away in March, she had only been with us for 2 months.
It has been so wet, we haven’t been able to take Maggie out to the bunny tree. Unfortunately, my in-law’s 15 year old rat terrier Jake died over the weekend, which meant that it was time to put Maggie to rest as well.
It was an absolutely gorgeous evening. We took Katie with us, it was her first trip to the farm (we hadn’t taken her before because Jake is very territorial and he would not have liked her one single bit). The boys got to run the excavator a bit, Mark is much more patient than I would be with that sort of thing.
That thing takes a lot of concentration to remember which lever to push in which direction in order to make the contraption do exactly what you want it to do (and where you want it do it!)
After the burial, they played in the mud some more and Katie and I wandered around the farm a bit so she could sniff out all of the new smells.
And so that I could take some pictures of interesting things. Actually, I put my camera away before I saw some of the really interesting old farm stuff, I’ll have to go out again with a camera, the pile of old clay tiles was pretty cool, and would make for interesting art quilt inspiration.
This old cultivator was pretty neat:
At least I think it’s an old cultivator. I probably should have checked with Mark before I started talking about farming equipment.
Katie and I are waiting for the boys to get home (they stayed at my sister-in-laws after school) and for Mark to get driven out of the field by rain. We don’t really need anymore rain right now, but it’s coming, it’s just a question of when, exactly, it’ll hit.
Thank you to all of you that provided hugs and support when we lost Maggie. I still really miss her, but at least she is now chasing the bunnies with Jake, Toby, Sarah, and Elmo.
Suzanne
I’m married to a farmer, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about farming. I ask the same dumb questions every year. I don’t even know what I don’t know about farming.
But my husband loves it, and so I take my yearly trip in the combine with him, and I go for days in the fall and spring saying “Hello, good-bye” as he comes home from work and heads out to do what he really loves. He really doesn’t love his deskjob that much — he doesn’t feel like he accomplishes anything. But in the combine — he can look behind him and see what he’s done and feel like he’s made a difference.
That and the fact that he is OUTSIDE and he GETS DIRTY. What more could a guy ask for?
And so, I give you, Suzanne’s Combine Ride 2007
I love watching the corn stalks as the shiver down through the choppers on the corn head.
Just like PigPen, the combine leaves a cloud of dust and debris in its wake.
Can you tell what he started to say? That would be “Don’t take my picture”
Amazing that it starts out at the front as cobs of corn attached to stalks and ends up coming out as individual kernels.
Back to work he goes: “Good-bye honey, it was fun riding with you! ”
TTFN-
Suzanne
Does anybody remember that expression?
We had something kind of neat happen here this morning, and the “beans” part is particularly appropriate:
The soybean fields around us (we are surrounded on three sides) were being sprayed today!
I only stayed out for a second or 2 in order to take the picture, the boys were mad that I made them come in, but I didn’t think we really needed to be outside while he was spraying. It was especially cool to watch (from inside) when he went low over the field that was directly behind our house.
To do the parts that were north and/or south of us, he’d have to pull up right after he got over the field: he was WAY close to our house. I chose to enjoy it, not be freaked out by it….
I snapped this quickly, and dang, look at the color of the sky and the field and stuff. Yummy.
It’s true: it is officially time to plant corn.
The oak leaves are as big as a squirrel’s ear.
My mother-in-law checked yesterday.
Well, she checked the oak leaves.
I don’t think she actually caught a squirrel and held it up for comparison.
**********************
Regarding pictures: I’ve had a couple comments that the pcitures in my post last night are not displaying. The quilt picture wasn’t working properly when I clicked on it, but I’ve fixed that. All of the others show up just fine for me, so I don’t know what’s going on. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.
TTFN-
Suzanne
Corn-Planting
THE earth is awake and the birds have come,
There is life in the beat of the breeze,
And the basswood tops are alive with the hum
And the flash of the hungry bees;
The frogs in the swale in concert croak,
And the glow of the spring is here,
When the bursting leaves on the rough old oak
Are as big as a red squirrel’s ear.
From the ridge-pole dry the corn we pluck,
Ears ripe and yellow and sound,
That were saved apart with the red for luck,
The best that the huskers found;
We will shell them now, for the Indian folk
Say, ‘Plant your corn without fear
When the bursting leaves on the rough old oak
Are as big as a red squirrel’s ear.’
No crow will pull and no frost will blight,
Nor grub cut the tender sprout,
No rust will burn and no leaves turn white,
But the stalks will be tall and stout;
And never a weed will have power to choke,
Or blasting wind to sear,
The corn that we plant when the leaves of the oak
Are as big as a red squirrel’s ear.
–Peter McArthur
