Posts Tagged ‘spring on the farm’

150 lbs of chicken feed this evening, one scoop at a time…

 

This past winter during cotton harvest I wrote a poem called The Farmer and The Farmer’s Wife.  I will share it below, and then share my reason for sharing it.  It seems today that perhaps it needs to be updated just a bit.

The hazy crescent moon heralds the harvest of fall crops and a familiar rhythm of life apart and yet together. 

The farmer labors in his fields, building the family’s way, walking the steps of his father, looking to the sky with thanks, and fullness of heart and weariness.

The farmer’s wife labors at her kitchen sink, building the family’s way, walking in the steps of her mother, looking to the sky with thanks and fullness of heart and weariness. 

They steal a warm hug every morning and send with each other words of strength.

He smiles when he sees her nearing the field with warm food, made just to his liking. 

She smiles when he opens the lid and heartily enjoys the work of her hands. 

He walks back to his machine proud of his work and holds his chest just a bit higher with his wife’s gaze upon him, her wave and smile are strength for the evening. 

When the work is done and the ground lays bare waiting and resting from its great toil, the farmer and the farmer’s wife sit outside and rest together, looking to the sky with thanks and fullness of heart and hope for the spring to come

when dirt shall be turned and seeds shall be spread across this great land and they shall smile together again

and share a plate together again in the fields with thanks and fullness of heart,

with her admiring his great labor and him finding strength in her smile and her gaze

and in the One who makes the soil and the seed and the water, somehow transforming them into food and cloth,

the family’s way, and a depth of meaning in life that far exceeds a simple square of seeds and the sweat on his brow and the food and cloth they make.

The haze of the crescent moon and the fog on the morning crops somehow transforms the seeds and the soil

and the farmer and the farmer’s wife

all together.                                                           ~Lacy Haugan, harvest 2011

 

So that was my poetic outpouring one full of heart harvest eve.  It’s true, there are many days and evenings like the ones described in this poem.  But this poem was written during the winter, when so far on our farm, all other things have come to a close.  No garden.  No broilers.  No brooder full of baby chicks.  Just cotton, quietly sitting in the field, waiting patiently to be gathered in the harvest.  For the farmer’s wife, the rest of life seems to slow down as the weather cools.  Children come indoors, yards take care of themselves, gardens sleep, and the farmer’s wife enjoys baking corn bread and a pot full of hot beef stew to take to the farmer.

Baby chicks must be monitored throughout the day. Not too cold, not too hot, adequate feed and water, all tucked in nice and cozy in the brooder.

But, during spring, oh during spring… how can I describe my first spring as a farmer’s wife who has a farmyard full of animals?

I don’t think that I have the inspiration tonight to bring that peaceful touch to it like I did for the harvest time poem.  Where as harvest rings more of waiting for the farmer to come home, the greatest extra chore being taking out the meal to the field, during spring planting time there is no waiting for the farmer to come home.  I’m too tired to wait.  I don’t know when he’s going to come home, and it doesn’t matter too much because I’m too tired to talk, and so is he.  When the farmer is gone during the spring, my day feels a lot less like buttery corn bread and hot beef stew, and a lot more like…

-driving the truck and trailer to the feed mill or farm store to pick up tons of feed and supplies routinely throughout the spring
-checking and filling empty animal water buckets up during the day
-moving chickens from brooder to field pens every week – the most exhausting job on the farm so far
-making dinner and taking it to the farmer in the field

My new ride quite a few times each week.

-putting the fussy youngest child to bed early after a long drive back from the field
-racing the sun to get the animals fed before dark
-groaning when I realize there is no more feed left in the bin
-driving down to the barn to lug 50 lb bags of feed into my minivan (I might or might not need a truck.  Inside I still want a prius.  🙂
-scooping out 150 lbs of feed one scoop at a time into 30 different feeders
-swatting the gnats, mosquitoes, and flies from my beaten up shins over and over, wishing I had taken the time to put jeans on
-looking to the sky and thanking God for the help of my 8 year old son, who is filling the 13+ water buckets one at a time
-rushing to duck tape the brooder tarp window flaps closed before the rain comes tonight
-checking each water bucket and feeder one last time before heading back inside, the sun has beaten us and it is already dark
-cleaning up dinner and kissing my son on the head as he reads before bed
-putting away the big batch of fresh bread loaves I made before dinner, some to the freezer
-changing out of my covered in dirt and grime clothes and into some clean comfies

Then I soak my aching muscles in some couch salve, and treat my mind to the art of reading and writing.  Today I wanted to plant zucchini plants and pumpkin plants, I wanted to water my garden and spend some time staking my tomatoes.  It was cool outside today, and the heat will be pressing down on us again in just a few days.  I never made it to the garden, but maybe I will tomorrow.  I have set out an easy meal to cut down on meal prep tomorrow.

I guess all of this to say that though I do at times during the day have somewhat of a semblance of normal, (thankfully the farmer is still doing morning chore time), the afternoons and evenings have taken on a form of their own with the farmer completely otherwise engaged (on the tractor planting).   My oldest child has risen to the occasion and for the most part is really helping me bare the burden of taking care of the home and farmyard on our own.  My youngest has her good moments, but on the whole does not much enjoy mommy being unavailable during the evening.  I am not sure yet how I am doing with it.  At moments I feel like my oldest, proud to have taken care of the farmyard on our own.  Other times I feel more like my youngest, irritated that I am committed to giving my evening hours to these animals when I have other needs that are waiting on me (my children, the kitchen, and simply my desire to slow down after dinner instead of rev up for chores).  I am sure that my thoughts and emotions here are simply part of the process of becoming not the farmer’s wife whojust takes dinner to the farmer, but instead, the farmer’s wife who takes on the chores of the farmer when he is away.  It’s a big job, and I don’t think I was quite ready for it.  But hey, the end of planting season is in sight, and I have almost made it through.  And then the end of chicken season will come into view and life will slow down for a while as we ease into fall.  Seasons are the fabric of life on the farm, and this season is SPRING.  No mistaking it.

~the farmer’s wife

 

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