Thanking my Farmer(s)

Have you Googled Thank a Farmer? The images that pop up include beautiful sunrises, with wheat or corn stalks glimmering in that morning sun, with a sweet red barn sitting perfectly on the side of the photo with a cow or some farm animal resting peacefully. If you didn’t grow up or know someone that grew up in an agricultural community this may be the idea you have of farming. There are some beautiful homesteads that these images represent. I identify more with the ones of combines or tractors in a field with the dirt blowing and the image doesn’t shine -it has more of a grit to it (see images below of my armature photos last week riding along in the combine).

All of the important men in my life farm. From my Dad who has worked for John Deere for 19 years to my Uncles who custom farm along with their sons, my cousins and Jarret.

My Dad has worked for John Deere for 19 years. Although his day does not consist of driving a combine or drilling wheat he is the man that makes sure when something breaks down his farmer gets that part needed to get back to work. Though his work did not put him in the field the partnership he has with his brothers took him there from time to time in his off hours. This is when Shana and I would walk sprinklers and clean out nozzles or ride with him to check on a motors and wells growing up in Dalhart, TX.

The last two years Jarret has been farming with Lenz Farms in Hartley, TX. Along with helping his Mom and Dad who have a farm in the once known Perico, TX where they have cattle. It goes without saying I’ve learned a lot in the last two years. My schedule is flexible and allows me to go sit and ride along in a tractor or combine where I have been educated on the different mechanics of each piece of equipment. I have delivered dinner to the harvest crew a time or two in the course of two years. I’ve helped work calves and bring them to town to the pins. The first time I ever went out with Jarret to their farm was when we started dating. We went out to feed. He grabbed several bags of cake and we went out to the field honking along the way for the cows to know TIME TO EAT, he stopped and started to toss the cake out into the tire tracks and those cows quickly started to swarm. My butt was up in the back of his pickup so fast you'd had thought my pants were on fire.He was sweet enough not to say anything at the time so I thought, "oh, okay I was smooth." Jump to a few months later and he's telling my Dad about how quick I jumped in the back of his pickup. I was not as smooth as I thought. I am growing more comfortable around their cows, however you don’t know fear until you have a momma cow staring you down because her baby is on the other side of you and the gate. I am not sure I will ever be comfortable with that.

This time of year is the time when there are no set hours, there are no date nights scheduled and any plans that get made are tentative. This has been the biggest challenge for me as a planner and I can proudly say this harvest season I have been better compared to last year. I think it's starting to sink in that plans need to be made after the combines are parked. I look forward to hearing his voice in the morning and sometimes in the evening. I ask him to text me when he gets home no matter the hour, which he doesn’t like doing because he’s afraid he’ll wake me up at 12:30am, but it makes me feel better knowing he’s home. We get to have breakfast together on Saturday mornings about 6:30am before he’s off to the field and then depending on what’s happening I don’t see him again until Sunday morning at Church. I am going to paraphrase a story my cousin Jeremy posted on his FB page last year. In this post he was thanking his wife for washing his shorts. He made the comment how “this time of year” they are like ships passing in the night, getting glimpses of each other every so often due to late nights and early mornings on his part and how these shorts of his were dirty and then one morning they were clean hanging in the closet like magic. It was a sweet acknowledgement of how farming can affect a whole family. 

Yesterday Jarret’s combine broke down about 3pm(ish) causing continued trouble and he text me a little after 8pm that he finally was back in the field. Many of us at 8pm last night were settled in watching our favorite tv program, myself included. He was cutting corn. When the handle on my shower broke last night he called to help me over the phone to see if I could fix it. I could not, I had to text the landlord this morning (Uncle Randy). When I got frustrated and irritated that I couldn’t fix it and started to complain, he calmly told me it would be fine. He spent most of his day working on a hundred thousand dollar piece of equipment and when it was all said and done he didn’t get to go home he went to the field all the while I was bitching about a shower knob. Perspective.

There are often days I don’t know how he does it. Up early and to bed late for weeks on end with little to no complaint. I am up early and to bed late two days in a row and need a week’s worth of naps. Of course there are bad days and really bad days, but in the end the work has to get done in a certain time frame. When farming the weather is the one thing that is truly in control. Farmer’s lives revolve around the weather. This farming trait I do come by naturally. I love my weather radar’s often pinning different weather news stations radar’s against each other.

If you Google Thank a Farmer one of the sayings that come up is Thank a farmer if you Ate Today and I agree, but there are other ways to thank a farmer. If you live in an urban community raise your children to know that the hamburger they are eating didn’t just appear in the grocery store. Explain how some rancher was breaking ice off a stock tank in a blizzard to make sure that cow had water. Explain that the corn in their corn chips was harvested by people who missed family dinner or a child’s school recital due to late night in the field. Explain that their favorite cotton pajamas were made from a crop grown in a field that was tirelessly watched and picked over.

Whenever scrolling through FB and I see someone has shared an article or blog post about Thanking a Farmer I always stop, read it, and like it. I agree with most everything that is written and smile fondly as I know people who are farmers and are proud of them. I have so much more appreciation now that I live it a bit more from day to day. Families are proud of their farmers for many reasons and I am growing to understand it more and more. I am so thankful for my farmer(s).

-Love, Me.

  

Dalhart, oh Dalhart, city that I love

We are sliding out of the second week of October, had our first real cold front with winds from the North, fireplaces dusted off and fired up, pumpkins decorate patios across town, and Halloween costumes are being purchased, created or forgotten.

Welcome to small town livin’ in Dalhart, TX.

My inspiration for this post came while swerving along HWY 54 heading home one evening to miss pot holes in the road. Only people that live in a town with cattle trucks, silage trucks, pumpkin trucks, milk trucks, cheese trucks, and corn trucks on their roads would be able to get away with the excuse when getting pulled over by a cop, “I was swerving to miss the pot holes in the road officer.”

I moved back to Dalhart in February of this year. It had been 17 years since I lived in Dalhart, TX. The population as noted on the city limits sign is 7,930. Though some of the faces have changed the heart and spirit has not.

If you were to have asked me 10 years ago if I’d ever live in Dalhart, TX again, I wouldn’t have said no, I’d have said HELL NO! Oh…little did I know what was in plan for me. I am more than happy to be back in this town and community that helped shape me. When I left Dalhart/Amarillo and moved to San Marcos, TX it was a feeling of being freed. What I needed to be freed from I have no idea. Something that I looked forward to when leaving was the new ability of being Shelly Lenz in places where no one knew, my mom, dad, aunts, uncles, or grandparents. Funny story to go along with that, when I moved to San Marcos my first job was at a little gift shop called Country Clutter at the outlet mall. I was working the closing shift one night and a women comes to shop, I greet her and then leave her to her shopping. She goes to check out and writes a check with a Dumas address. I mentioned “I’m from that area,” and she says, “are you Chuck and Donna’s daughter?” Insert LARGE eye roll here. Joke’s on me, right? Throughout my 10 years of living down south when I walked into a restaurant, went shopping or stopped to get coffee I never scanned the room to see if I knew anyone. I walked in sat down and got on with business. Faces changed like the weather. This has been an adjustment since being back in the Panhandle. Before moving to Dalhart I lived in Amarillo and realized quickly that I was going to have to be aware of the faces around me. People that have known me or my family for many years were going to find me rude. Please know I am not being rude, I am a work in progress. Also, please don’t be offended if I have to ask your name my mental rolodex is dusty and I’ve had to WD-40 it.

Although the names and faces don’t come to me as quickly as they use to there are a few things you never forget. You don’t forget that when turning left onto Denver off 7^th street you need to stop half a block away from the light so all the trucks turning right down slam into you. Be prepared to wait for a train at least once in the course of your day. Never go over the speed limit when traveling between Dalhart and Hartley and for the love of everything that is holy, when turning into malfunction junction from any direction, pay special attention as it’s called “malfunction junction” for a reason.

I hear the talks of some folks how, “oh Dalhart is not how it once was” and that’s true because nothing ever is. Seems recently I’ve heard a lot about break-ins at local businesses, vandalism, and all around hoodlumism (I just made that word up) and unfortunately that is the world we live in today big or small. I always try to find an upside and the best thing I can come up is we should catch all the hoodlums and hang them by their toes. No? Okay…so the real upside…lead by example. Too corny? I honestly don't know other than holding people accountable for their actions. I'd hate to see the businesses I enjoy have to put bars on the windows in order to keep criminals out. Maybe a message should be sent think Home Alone style?? Iron to the face or torch to the head. Those criminals survived. Clearly, these are not good ideas, but people work too hard to be stolen from.

I’ve said this once and as my birthday is what prompted the blog, I’ll keep with that theme, but I normally do not feel my age until I look back on this little city I love dearly. Then I feel 35. Why? I can’t eat Allsup’s burritos like I use to. Jarret and I call Shopko “the store formally known as ALCO.” I’d be bored to death driving main. I’m still a bit bummed about no movie theater (although very happy that building has found its use and is not sitting vacant like so many). The softball fields off HWY 54 are nice, but something about the old one by the cemetery had a SandLot kind of feel to it. The arcade in Pizza Hut. Hardee’s on the corner of 87 and 54. The 10 foot deep end at the pool. Do you feel old now too?

The smallness of Dalhart allows the waitress to already know what I want to drink and that I take creamer with my coffee and getting a hug along with a hello when you run into someone at United. I truly believe life is what you make it. This is in all aspects. Love, job, family, and community. You get what you give. Give your community a little attention and you may get some back. I’ve dipped my toes in giving of my community and am excited to see what it gives back. Things I am looking for? Friendship, feeling of accomplishment, fun, and more of that small town feel.

Our little of the corner of Texas is just that, little and I love it. I hope you do too.

-Have a happy day friends.