Country Boys Go To Town

The Keeper of The Flame, The Pied Piper, and The Farmer's Shadow have all spent exactly four full weeks in town over the last eight weeks.  They had no choice, they were told to get in the car~so they went.  We are blessed to spend time in a town that desperately wants to be a suburb, but its not yet found a city to belong to. The town once resided in the country, and it seems to think it still does...but now that we live in a true country setting(okay, we think it is...we have to drive 40 minutes to get to a WalMart and our nearest neighbor is a mile away as the crow flies, isn't that true country?) we kinda chuckle.  This is a town.  A bonafide, curb-enhanced, paved, town.  Complete with two gas stations and four restaurants.

For boys who have only grown up in the country, and on a farm...coming into town is different.

First of all: no peeing outside. This is an actual issue.  Country boys are used to watering the tires.  Even some country girls can do it (I heard tell). But in town they will have NONE of it! So zip up those pants and wait until you're inside.

Secondly: Please don't flush the toilet for fun.  In town you have to pay for that water going out, and the water coming in!  

Safe-fun only: My country boys tend to be the knife tossing, hatchet wielding, hole digging kinda boys.  But in town...well...the police aren't so happy about eight year old knife throwing boys.  Especially when they think the best targets are the trees in the front yard, next to the road...

And though we have lived in a recreation of the WWI trench wars...we don't want to go back, so please leave the turf in place now.

"What CAN we do?" , they ask after the Wife has shot down any hope they had for outdoor fun.

"How about you build a fort with sticks for pine cones? You could make an obstacle course and time each other running through it. OR fold laundry!"

"What's the fun in any of that?", they ask.

I have no answer for them.

An hour later the Wife found this in the back yard....

Its definitely big enough for pine cones, a large dog, or an eight, ten and twelve year old...but they say they built it for the six, four and two year old (whatever).

And as a side note: this structure is NOT safe! Those logs are all stacked on top of each other. There's no stability at all.  The six, four and two year old did not get to play long in it, before a wall fell down and there were tears. Thankfully no cracked sculls.

"Girl" chores: we aren't gender neutral around here.  There are specific "boy" chores and "girl" chores on our farm. The boys do the hard work and heavy labor.  Basically, the nasty stuff the Wife doesn't want to have to do again.  Like cleaning the barn, stacking hay, and trimming goat feet. What on earth do boys do in town?  The Keeper of the Flame has cut the grass(which is the size of a postage stamp) twice! And I fear it's not going to come back it's so trimmed! The garbage has gone out of every room...hourly, every day, just to give the Pied Piper some work to do!  In a final act of desperation, the Wife gave the Farmer's Shadow a "girl" chore: unloading the dishwasher.  The poor boy, he's a sweetheart, he did it, but he nearly cried as he began putting away silverware.  The other two hid-I'm not sure if they were concerned that they might have to help, or just felt the Shadow's shame.  Since then, they have been folding laundry, loading dishwashers, washing pots and pans, vacuuming and sweeping. The house has never been so clean with ten people in it!

Country boys in town find trees to climb-usually in front of some poor lady who never heard of tree climbing children, or maybe had only read about them in a book and cannot believe that the Wife would permit her children to climb a tree in a public place.

Country boys end up on the roof of the garage. Or the house. Or have one on the garage roof and one on the house roof and begin sending signals back and forth using mirrors.

Country boys spend a LOT of time at the beach with a net and goggles trying to catch the elusive cat fish they imagine lives under the pier.  They find dead fish and dissect them in front of all the other children on the beach.  They get dark and dark-er tan.  

Country boys say "HI!" to every passer-by, and pet every dog.  They laugh loud and shout to each other when they walk down the sidewalk.

In the end...they will go back to the country and talk all winter about the fun they had.  When they were made to use the bathroom EVERY time they had to "go", when they build forts for little siblings, and they only had to do "girl chores". In the end, it will be a fond memory...when the Country boys went to town.

Dear Farmer Places an Order Online

Dear Farmer is of the opinion that phones are for calling and talking to people...not texting, snap-chatting, insta-gram-ing, taking pictures, or reading on.
Dear Farmer likes to do business with a handshake...not bids, quotes or contracts.
Dear Farmer likes to buy things from a person...not the self-checkout, vending machine, or online.

These days aren't like the days when Dear Farmer was a boy.  Bread costs more than a nickle a loaf, gas costs more than ten cents a gallon, and there are some things you just order online.
"Back in my day..." Dear Farmer will begin a story, and the children groan.
"Pop! Get in the twenty-first century!", they say.  But that's not when Dear Farmer was born.
So, ordering online is a big "to-do" when Dear Farmer has to do it.  He only orders from companies that he's dealt with in the past...ones that have people on the other end.  Then spends hours "one-touch" typing in the desired items. It's so painful, none of us can watch him anymore.  He has to do it himself!
Then, after hours and hours of filling a cart....he calls in the Wife to checkout....
He has learned that the quick typing and quick clicking is un-nerving...so he usually tries to leave the room when it comes to checking out.  There are some times he has to be present for the orders because they need special instructions...he's usually found rubbing his head for the headache that comes on afterward.

No, these aren't the days that Dear Farmer grew up in.
It only takes two days to get something from an online order, he doesn't pay extra, and we don't have to wait at the mailbox for the delivery.
Pictures of animals are sent instantly from farmer to farmer with questions, concerns, or for sale.
Decisions take seconds, not weeks.
Modern machinery can do the work of three-hundred horses.
His tractor can do 45 mph on the road!

"Those Good Old Days", we remind Dear Farmer, "you still get to live.  You walk among your herd, hear the softness of the hay being munched during feeding, touch the tops of the grass as it begins to seed-head. You work in the beauty of creation every day! One afternoon ordering an automatic chicken door that's timed to close at night and open at the break of day(so that none of us have to do it)...that's really not that bad!"

CHICKENS! It's what brings Fathers and Sons together?

CHICKENS! It's what we're doing on the farm right now...preparation, anticipation, building, and raising.
CHICKEN fencing, CHICKEN waters, CHICKEN feeders, CHICKEN brooders, CHICKEN houses, CHICKEN-egg washing, CHICKEN butcher dates, CHICKEN chicks, CHICKENS roosters, CHICKEN...CHICKEN...CHICKEN....
So it comes as no surprise to anyone around here when the current project is the CHICKEN house.

Dear Farmer and Honorable Son No.2 have been plugging away at the creation of the new CHICKEN house.  They had the spent one day grating and leveling the area where the house will go.  Now they are in the shop building the frame...because that's a good indoor activity during the cold rain.
Dear Farmer is loving getting to work with Honorable Son No.2.  The two are very alike in ability and practical thinking.  Honorable Son No.2 anticipates what is coming next, measures everything correctly, and laughs at the same jokes as Dear Farmer.

Dear Farmer came in from work...after day number two of working together...very happy!
Dear Farmer is anticipating the work taking half the time, and turning out to be correct from all angles in the end.  Those alone are reasons to be happy...but the best part is working, laughing, and spending time with his son.

And Honorable Son No.2 has found out...he really likes Dear Farmer too.

This proves two beautiful facts:

1. Neither Dear Farmer or Honorable Son No.2 are CHICKENS themselves.
2. Real men aren't CHICKENS about mending relationships.

The Family Question of the Night...the Wednesday Night Special

Dear Farmer was asked a question tonight at dinner..."Who has been the biggest influence in your life?"

He looked around the table.  The whole family was there.  Something that doesn't happen often enough anymore...
There was a time when it was just Dear Farmer and the Wife.  They dreamed about winning the lottery. Two people with a million dollars, they had it spent!  Alas, they never had a ticket, it was all just a dream.

Scrimping and saving.
Giving and living without.
Rejection of "wants and desires", but the joys of each need being filled.

Somehow, year by year, the most important thing became Family.  

Each set of eyes staring back at him were a monument to a time when he learned,
  a time when he sacrificed,
           a time when he overcame!

He was blessed by each one of those children countless times.
         More than they will ever know.
                  Not until they are parents, will they understand....it was worth it all!

He'd do it all again...the scrimping and saving,
                                                    the giving,
                                               the living without,
                     the never-having-it-all, but the just-having-enough...
                                                                                        he'd do it all again in a heartbeat!

Dear Farmer's answer was perfect..."Your Mother.  Without her, none of you would be here."


I Love this Farmer!!!

Don't Use The Door Today!

The wind actually dictates what Dear Farmer does some days.  Today the temperature is warmer than usual which means Dear Farmer has been planning a whole bunch of "to-do"s that he hadn't been able to do during the freezing temps.  However, when he awoke this morning, he heard the wind.  Blowing at a constant
16 mph and with gusts up to 50 mph, it's going to be a "rather blustery day today".
This means there will be no:

• moving of hay in the fields 
• high limb-cutting work 
• climbing on the feed bins 
• placing of tarps  

The last time we had a blustery day Dear Farmer chose to work indoors fixing machinery.  That was a good idea.  The only hitch with the plan was getting in and out of the machine shed.  The service door is at such an angle that the wind glues the door shut.  In order to get out one must pull the door open with all one's might! Then hold the door open, skootch the body around to the outdoors, and then move out of the way quickly as the wind will catch the door and suck it back shut with a resounding "THWAK!".
The in and out plan was to work well as there would be few ins and outs.  But the first time the plan was in action...things did not go well.  Dear Farmer's hand did not move away from the inside edge of the door fast enough and the door slammed shut on Dear Farmer's index finger.  This is where we all say "ouch!".
This was not just a finger slammed in a door.
This was a finger crushed by a heavy metal service door at ??mph.  Dear Farmer knew this was not going to be good.
It took Dear Farmer a good couple minutes to pry the door open again and dislodge his finger from the doorway.  I won't continue to describe the feeling of blood oozing from inside his gloved hand, or the squishy feeling of a finger that isn't supposed to be squishy...Dear Farmer rushed inside the house yelling for the Wife.  We didn't remove the glove from the hand, but did rush to the ER.
Dear Farmer stayed conscious during the duration of the x-rays, shots, and sewing of the mangled digit.  He passed out after the adrenaline rush was gone.
The result of the door's violent attack is an index finger shorter than the rest.  An index finger that doesn't have the feeling that the rest of his fingers have.
And so we add to the list of things that cannot be done on a windy day:

• no using of doors.

Dear Farmer is Getting New Glasses...or... The Family is Laughing Uncontrollably...

Dear Farmer, after not being able to read the small television screen, having to find the "sweet spot" while reading books, and his glasses breaking beyond repair...finally consented to going to the eye doctor.
The last eye appointment he had was three years ago.  Why doesn't he go every year?  Well, he doesn't like to spend the money...and they always prescribe him new lenses.  Hmmmm...being a farmer that NEEDS glasses to see...well,moving on...
So the Wife made Dear Farmer an appointment and sent him on his way.
Dear Farmer was impressed with the new technology the doctor had!  The doctor took a picture of his eyeball, and was very impressed with his healthy eyeballs!  Then he did the actual exam...
The doctor flashed up the first card...Dear Farmer squinted and squeezed, but he read the card.
The doctor told Dear Farmer,"Don't try so hard.  Just glance and read."
The doctor flashed the next card...Dear Farmer didn't squint or squeeze. Dear Farmer glanced up and read,"E, T, G, B, A."
The doctor's response: "You can't see it.  Those were numbers."
(Insert family rolling with laughter!!!)
The doctor asked Dear Farmer about farming, and fencing, and picked his brain on sheep pastures. The chatter softened the blow of reality...
Dear Farmer has a wonderful healthy eyeball that needs glasses...he now needs bi-focal glasses.
The glasses will cost more than before, but he'll see better than he used to! Once he gets used to those new-fangled progressive lenses.

Dear Farmer's Broken Window

Dear Farmer is on the last hay-cutting of the season(YIPPEE!). Something that we are all excited for!  His last fields to cut are the really rocky ones.  They weren't so bad, until torrential downpours eroded the top of the hills and caused deep grooves going down into valleys. Now it's a real nightmare to cut.  The rocks ping around you the entire time as the mower hits them and throws them up in the air with no rhyme or reason.  Well, off Dear Farmer went, very grateful that his tractor is an enclosed cab and he has something(even if it was glass) between he and the rocks.
He broke numerous cutting blades, but he'd fix them, and continue cutting.  The rocks were pinging and pelting, but he continued cutting.  He counted the number of rocks that hit his cab windows.  Each time one hit he offered to God a prayer of thankfulness for the rock not hitting himself. 'One...two...three....'
At rock 'seven' he wondered,"How much more can this window take?"  It was rock 'eight' that answered that question.  Dear Farmer said it sounded like a gun-shot, and suddenly glass was everywhere!  Though the glass was all over, the rock still didn't hit Dear Farmer.  (The Wife is so grateful for the enclosed cab on the tractor!  Dear Farmer is grateful, too!)  That finished the hay cutting for the season.  Dear Farmer decided that if a rock could smash the tempered glass, he wasn't going to continue cutting and risk the next rock smashing his head just as hard.  (The Wife is so grateful that Dear Farmer didn't take the chance.)
So he drove home. The tractor can still be used to bale the hay, it'll be a little louder than usual, but all will be fine.  The dealership has been contacted and a new window ordered.
Dear Farmer drank a little more coffee than usual that night.  He said he nearly "greased his shorts" when he heard that sound and all the glass crashing around him.  But we Praise God it's just a broken window.

Boys' Day!

On Dear Farmer's one day that he's not cutting hay all week, he took his Farm-boy Trio out for the afternoon to the near-by "big city".  The Four of them went to all the manly stores...the local farm implement supply, the big tool supply store, and the bulk-buying store.  Of all the places they went, and all the things they saw, what do you suppose was the highlight?
"Mama!  Pop bought us each a BIG hot dog and a BIG soda!  I got to choose my own soda!!!  Look at my BIG cup!  I have a blue straw!  And I ate the WHOLE hot dog MYSELF!!!"
Dear Farmer was impressed.  It's not often that he takes out the Farm-boy Trio...let alone by himself.  Aside from the incredible fascination with every store's bathroom, and the fact that the each boy in the Trio has a bladder the size of a peanut and he had bought them each their own BIG soda...so they had to use each bathroom a few times while in the store, never all at the same time; the whole trip went well.  And that was Boys' Day!
Stay tuned for what the girls did while the boys were away....

Laundry Lines

Through the years Dear Farmer has blessed the Wife with different laundry lines.  The first was a line under three walnut trees, in a neighborhood where country hospitality was not, and birds thought that the line was their target-practice.  The second was an umbrella line.  That worked well for about five years.  The line had a hole in the backyard for nice weather, and Dear Farmer filled a bucket of cement for inside use with a woodstove running.  The next was a line strung between two oak trees using an old hammock frame.  Balance was delicate so a support pole in the middle was needed, and eventually the lines disintegrated.  The current line, uses the old hammock frame, but was made more like your fence line, so that as the lines loosen, it can be tightened(Dear Farmer hates drooping lines).  It all goes well until Dear Farmer sees it needs to be tightened...and there's a load of laundry hanging on it.  So, he went to tighten the lines, and instead the weight of the laundry pulls the lines down, the entire thing landed on the ground.  The Wife tries not to think of the amount of chicken poop on the ground where her clean laundry landed....
Two Farmer's Daughters, the Wife and a frustrated Dear Farmer got the line back up(and drooping) in about fifteen minutes.  The quest for the perfect laundry line continues....

Dear Farmer takes a day off

During hay season there can be rain...most of the time rain is a reason to fix equipment.  Every so often, rarely, it's a reason to take a day off.  A day off???  What's that???  Dear Farmer, after twenty-one days of straight working, was sent on a day off.  No man, is meant to work non-stop.  And if they do, they tend to become a person no man wants to be around.  So, we (the family) sent Dear Farmer on a day off to Fabulous Aunt and Uncle's house.  There they loved on him and gave him his favorite drink (Dr.Pepper), gave him posh-treatment (they have a whirlpool), and pampered him with the food (bacon).  He sat, he walked, he talked, he shopped, he fixed, and he was rejuvenated!  Dear Farmer came home a happier rested farmer, able to cope with the life he lives.
Everyone needs a day off...a rest...we are so grateful Dear Farmer has a place where he can go to do so.
Thank you Fabulous Aunt and Uncle!

When you separate the bulls from the steers...Observation from The Wife

Dear Farmer and the Farm-boy Trio love to talk "manly".  You know, "man"-things?  The Wife doesn't know all the specifics of "manly" conversations, but there's a lot of grunting and elbow jabbing.  Usually someone has to spit...very "manly".
Dear Farmer has a friend, Don-Cowboy, who is very manly.  He was an active US Army Ranger, no longer active duty, but always a Ranger.  He and Dear Farmer have "manly" conversations.  There is no place for the "faint-of-heart" in their farm-talk.  We have had Don-Cowboy and other Cowboys here to help us move cattle, but this time it was just Don-Cowboy who was helping us cut the bulls from the steers for breeding season.  Don-Cowboy is very sure of himself as he rides his horse around these thousand-plus pound bulls, and smaller steers.  The steers run around, and are skittish.  The bulls just walk.  Don-Cowboy's not messing around, he's on a mission, he's focused.  The Farm-boy Trio all looks up at Don-Cowboy as a man they respect.
Dear Farmer put it very well to them, "Boys", he said, "This isn't a big deal for Don-Cowboy, 'cause he's just "bull" telling those bulls what they're all gonna go do.  Because Don-Cowboy doesn't yell and scream at them, they have no problem following him.  He isn't afraid of them, he respects them and the danger in this job. Don-Cowboy's showing them this job is going to be done his way.  Your actions speak louder than your words."
The Wife concludes: in the end of all "manly" conversations, that must be what separates the bulls from the steers...when your actions line up with the words you would speak.  Your actions will be heard louder than your words.