What makes a farmer?

I was talking with one of my friends about a fantasy land where we would run away with our boyfriends and live in a cottage somewhere. In the course of the conversation she started talking about farming and how she wouldn't know what to do with herself, so Captain America and I would have to be in charge of it. I tried to tell her that it was easy, but something must have gotten lost in the translation.

How do you sum up the love, the angst, the freedom, and the responsibility in a few sentences? How do you explain the pure exultant joy that you can feel from successfully doing something that felt insurmountable: mowing and baling a field of hay on your own, helping birth a calf, falling in instant love with a baby chick, making food from dirt? Or the heart wrenching despair and loss that you feel when Murphey's law hits and everything that can possibly go wrong does: all the equipment breaks - repeatedly, it rains on your hay, animals die, gardens wither? 

Surely this is what she must feel like when she tells me about music, or other friends try to explain what moves them. It is so frustrating to have something that you love so much, and be unable to verbalize that love to share it with your loved ones. To explain how easy and wonderful your passion is to someone who doesn't share it is exceedingly difficult.

Being a farmer isn't about mechanical skill, ability to build fence, knowledge of livestock medicine, or any of the hundred other chores that pop in my head - though those things do help. But being a farmer is so much less, and so much more than that. It is heart. It is love. It is fortitude.

Being a farmer is cow paths that wind through the woods as a child's Yellow Brick Road. It is climbing atop a pile of round bales and serenading a herd of cows like you're a pop star. It is watching a thousand loved ones slowly age and die, or be swiftly executed in their prime. It is holding newborn kittens and helping bird's to their nests. It is standing in a hayfield during a surprise thunderstorm surrounded by 200 freshly made square bales that are going to have to be shaken out and dried again so they can be rebaled without molding, and finding the ability to cry, curse and laugh your way through it again and again. It is being aware and entangled with both the highs and the lows of life; and having so much love for that life, plant or animal, that you get up and keep going even when it feels pointless, overwhelming, and you question your sanity.

I don't know. Maybe it is genetic. Somewhere in our DNA is code for red or green tractors next to the one that determines our eye color. Maybe it is environmental. How could I ever leave my adoring herd of fans? After all they are the only ones who like my singing, and most of my songs were about them and the horses anyway. 

Maybe it is a combination of both that gives anyone the determination to pursue their passion. Heart and fortitude, baby. That's what makes me a farmer.

It's a redneck weddin'!

I’m pretty sure that I’m redneck married right now. If the gun left at my house was a betrothal of some sort we are definitely there.

Captain America and I bought a tractor together. It is a brand spanking new New Holland T105 with a passenger seat! He wanted it so he could pull a disc mower and a big baler for his custom haying operation. I wanted it because, well, it has a passenger seat! And air conditioning! And a sun roof! They called it a “high visibility panel,” but it has a sun roof! Long story short, it is a tractor with a cab where I won’t have to plaster myself pathetically to the outside of the door like a squashed bug. Which pretty much sucks except in the spring. I mean why wouldn’t I love clinging to the door with my fingertips as I watch my dad inside the heated, air conditioned, and dry cab. With this beast I can  actually sit in the cab and not get jabbed in the butt by the PTO button or a lever that I have to contort myself around so that my beloved can actually turn on the equipment. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty sweet.

Captain was pretty nervous about it. It is a lot of money up front, but it should be the tractor that we can use for the rest of our lives. Tractors don’t depreciate the way that cars do. Even though it made sense to spend the money now rather than later he was nervous about it. That is until he used the disc mower. I’m pretty sure I have never seen him so happy in all the months we have been together. We messed around mowing his pasture in the five minutes of daylight that we had left when we got back to his place. In those five-ten minutes we mowed almost a quarter of the pasture, which had previously taken him maybe half an hour or forty minutes to mow with his other mower. I hopped out to open the gate and when I turned around he had his arms full of freshly mown clover and weeds and I guess it could have been a trick of the fading light, but I think there were tears of joy in his eyes. He was probably saying something about “Look how great it mows!” but in my head he was spinning and dancing through the meadow with this big armful of clover singing in joy. The clouds parted. He ran towards the tractor, there was a dramatic moment where the refrain of “Loving you is easy because you’re beautiful” was playing. There may have been skipping, but I’m not sure because I was being shown clover at that point and my head and heart were bubbly seeing him so happy.

By the way, my head routinely makes real life into some sort of Disney cartoon. I sincerely doubt that it is a diagnosable condition, but I blame Beauty and The Beast.

So yeah, I’m redneck married. You can send all wedding gifts as checks made out directly to Davis Farm Supply. ;)

I guess all that is left to do is figure out which anniversary is the farm equipment anniversary. Captain America says year one, but I don’t believe him. I feel like he may just be angling for a new baler...

Take me for a ride in your big blue tractor.
We can go slow, or go a little faster.

Companion Farming. It is better than growing alone.

I have this weird fantasy where I secretly take pictures and videos of Captain America and I, and I edit them into a better commercial for FarmersOnly. You know, kind of like the Match and eHarmony ones, only with more cows. Oh and instead of the first date conversation being about our jobs it would be about what dead things the dogs drug into the yard lately (a whole deer head with eyes and all, thanks Susan…). Less giggling and more full out belly laughs. Fewer sly hair flips and more hands shaking and praying to not spill the wine. Heavy discussions about how many cows we wanted to have when we got older, or how much acreage we wanted to own. And the tagline for this? Companion Farming. It is better than growing alone.

 

Why Companion Farming you ask? A few months ago I was walking across one of Captain America’s fields carrying two bottles of tea; making a beeline straight for the tractor when it hit me. If I hadn’t drove the hour and a half to get there, and he had flipped the tractor or gotten kicked by a horse or whatever random farming accident, no one would even notice until it was too late.

 

The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I felt physically ill. I fought it down and hopped on up to make a few rounds as “tractor candy.” But it hasn’t been very far away from my thoughts ever since. As we made the rounds and small talk I found my thoughts wandering and toying with words, as they are frequently wont to do. I was thinking about how glad I was to be alive and in the relationship that I am in, and then I started being grateful for the opportunity to explore my hobbies and interests like companion planting, and I looked over at CA and thought to myself how lucky I was to have such a nice farming companion, and then the thought hit me. We were companion farming. I was put in his life to prevent him from an untimely tractor accident (or at least to cry a lot if it happened) and he was put into mine to help me too. Because let’s face it. In a few years I too would be farming alone.

 

Over the past few weeks my thoughts have been circling around this idea of companion farming as if it was an unruly cow and I REALLY wanted to pet her calf. Which is to say I will think hard on it and then lose interest only to come back a few days later and stare longingly at the cuddly little epiphany that is just barely out of my reach. Seriously, it is right there.

 

I have had a lot of thoughts that almost catch it.

 

We refer to loved ones, friends, romantic partners, and pets as companions. Ideally most of those relationships are symbiotic, and help each other, to create a better whole. To extend the idea of companion gardening into it, there are certain plants that grow well together giving support to sprawling vines or fighting off certain insects for their neighbors. Those companions don’t replace sunshine, soil, or water; but they go an awfully long way when it comes to boosting the liveliness and productivity of their sister plants. For example, squash can grow by itself, but it is much more susceptible to bugs without some radishes in its life. Much like I can grow by myself but am much more prone to bouts of depression without all of my companions around. Each one is specialized and good for certain things like conversation, hugs, devil’s advocacy, fun wild nights, shopping, or listening; much like certain companion plants are great for things like immune support, physical support, or even pest deterring.  

 

God is a gardener planting people in our lives to help us grow in certain ways. We must chose our friends as if they were companion plants (IE stay away from those black walnut friendships ‘cause nothing good will come of that [black walnut trees actually release a toxin into the ground that can kill rival plants]). Not everyone that will take from you also gives you back what you need. After all, what good is a little shade if you’re both starving and fighting for nitrogen? When selecting a mate you must choose someone that you not only grow well next to, but who also doesn’t steal too many of your nutrients, all the better if they add what you need back into the soil.

 

Any of those work? No? Well, heck. They don’t quite do it for me either. Maybe one day I will clutch that cuddly calf of insight and it will be as clear as day, but for right now it is still about as see through as lake water after a rainstorm. Geez, I am rocking the redneck analogies today. Sorry ‘bout that!

 

One way or another, I am so grateful to have my life so full of EXCELLENT companions.

 

And part of that is because of FarmersOnly. So watch out, Captain. It only makes sense that I should give a little back!

 

After all, who could resist a handsome farmer fake threatening
you with a knife as you snap pictures of him cutting bale strings for you?
C'mon! The ad will write itself!

 

 

Awkward

I am a socially awkward dater.

I don’t go on many first dates because when I do I wind up talking about things like animal spines and deer skulls. I don’t know why. First dates turn me into some sort of sociopath. I panic when faced with a new person that I don’t know, and resort to discussing things I do know, like random dead things in the yard and dehydrated opossum carcasses in the barn. Sexy right? God. No wonder I can’t beat them off with a stick. <-sarcasm

I have found that in addition to the regular things that most girls look for in a guy I also have a weird ranking system that most other women do not have.

Normal                                                   Me

Buys flowers                                         Has hand raised baby (raccoon/opossum/cow/deer/etc.)

Respectful                                             Can fix farm equipment (bonus points if with bare hands)

Romantic                                               Finds hay stacking/cow checking/fourwheeling romantic

Good conversationalist                     Can use chainsaw and gun, preferably not at the same time

In good shape                                       How high can he throw hay

Cares about appearance                    Smells like: coal smoke, diesel fuel, hydraulic fluid

Takes me to nice/cool places            Has sexy farm animals/tractors

Etc.                                                          Etc.

 

Needless to say I was devastated when Boyfriend and I broke up a few months ago. I felt a crushing sense of depression. I have so many weird little ticks and idiosyncrasies that I really felt like I would be doomed to be alone forever. The echoing moos across the hills would be my only music. Horse hugs would be the extent of my comfort. In short, since I was so dedicated to my farm lifestyle it was a choice between being alone and doing what I love, or being in love and doing what made me miserable. I chose to stick to my guns with my lifestyle choice, and lead the life of a hermit if need be. I pictured the ends of my days driving a tractor across a barren landscape hopping off to cut bale strings to the agitated bawling of newborn calves, and I was strangely okay with it. After all, I’m tweaked a little differently. I don’t particularly want a life of leisure, and if a guy can’t appreciate my work ethic and lifestyle choices I would probably make him miserable in the long run. I wouldn’t want to do that to someone I cared for.

So what is a girl with horrible dating skills to do? Use redneck pick up lines?

“You can come drive your t-posts at my place anytime.” Suggestive wink…

“You’re right. I don’t need vinyl fence boards. I need wood. Badly.” Come hither look…

“Would you like to follow me home and plow my field?” Hint of a suggestive chin tilt…

Somehow I really don’t see those working out for me. I mean. They’d work on me, but it would take a special someone for me to use them on. But then again, maybe when I find a guy that I can share a glass of wine and swap “things the dogs drug into the yard” stories with maybe he will appreciate those too.

Because I giggle like a moron every time I read them.

Maybe I should just become a nun…