There’s one major hitch with my she-farmer gig: sleep. More accurately, lack thereof. Women about my age often empathize with my challenge of getting a good night’s sleep. I’m too hot. Too cold. I toss and I turn. Midnight to 4:00 a.m. is no-man’s land. If I get stranded there, I count on 4:00 a.m. to 6:00 a.m. to redeem the night.
Well, that’s doggone inconvenient as a she-farmer. I’ve often just settled into my “second sleep” when the Hubs nudges me awake with gentle peck. I stumble out of bed with only one thought: I need more sleep. The mere hope of resuming sleep after I finish chores propels me forward.
The concept of second sleep was introduced some years ago on an urgent trek to locate an Amish midwife. Continue reading second sleep
Upright silos are familiar features of North Country landscape. Like iconic windmills of the Netherlands, they were built for another era. Structures rose steadily in the 20th century on small farms with limited acreage. In the last few decades, feed storage has trended to concrete bunks. Some silos are torn down and rebuilt elsewhere. Some, like ours, stand empty in the midst of a farm embracing progress. Others keep quiet watch over barns falling to disrepair.
Once new facility construction was underway, attention turned to clean up of the barn fire site. Included in the mess were two blue metal silos compromised by the fire. Additionally, two 80-foot concrete silos at the main farm stood empty and smack dab in the way of progress. One of those was the monster that almost stole the Hubs’ life in 1997. All four silos were destined to be razed. Good riddance!
Who knew silo demolition could be so much fun? It was like a good ol’ fashioned field day for grands and adults alike. A lot of excitement for our small corner of the word. But when I heard an Amish crew would dismantle all four silos, I was sure I’d misunderstood. Seriously? How does that work? Continue reading silos away!
Several years ago we employed two young Amish couples on our dairy farm. One year the Hubs came up with the brilliant idea to collaborate on a vegetable garden. It sounded quite perfect to me.
I hated the idea of gardening because I despise snakes. Seriously. It doesn’t matter if they are harmless or small. A snake is a snake is a snake. (You may appreciate some of my dramatic snake experiences.)
The Hubs loved the idea of gardening but it seldom played out well. True to his “go big or go home” nature, he over-engineered. When reality hit in the form of acres to plant, mow, bale, or chop, the garden got short shrift. It was neglected to the point of joint embarrassment by early July. Even then, I refused to enter!
Continue reading amish co-gardening