News, Moos, and Mews

First, the News

The obligation of chores, morning and evening, doesn't leave much time for watching television. Not to worry....

We call it the New TV. Watch that milk slosh, listen for poor suction, be on the alert for kitties who have sneaked in and could be in danger of being stepped on by those big cow hooves. Hey! It's even a little like the Wii in that we don't just sit and stare at the boob tube: we exercise arms and legs and backs as we enjoy the comedic drama of the twice-daily show.

Next, the Moos

Feeding the young stock happens before we start milking the big girls. Pat handles the 3 youngest on her own. With all three of us feeding the five "middle-aged" calves at once, the job gets done quickly. I'm usually standing there between Pat & Weldon, but someone has to take a photo now and then!

The picture above is looking over the backs of the 5 youngsters and seeing the older calves eating their grain. I think there are 8 of them. They are so big now that Weldon has to go in to give them their grain. They could easily knock any one of us on our butt!

Last, but certainly not least, some Mews

In my January 11 post, I mentioned three baby kitties, saying, "I'll get you my pretties!" To date, I'm unsuccessful in attaining that goal. Mom Google moved her babies to the truck shed near the house and, for unknown reasons, one of them died. However, I've been feeding the other 2 and talking to them twice a day, but they remain aloof. Since I'm not certain of their sex, I haven't named them ... but I do have pictures!

     Gretchen with 5 new babies: 

Baby Ruth & Iris snuggling in the Kitty Spa:

In closing, I have a cute story to share. Just over a week ago, Weldon told me he saw a bluish-gray tiger-striped kitten in the old milk barn. A day or two later, Pat saw it. I couldn't imagine what kitty it could be and I couldn't think of any cat that had kittens that we hadn't found yet. Morning & evening I looked for this mysterious cat and talked nicely to it, in case it were listening, but I never caught a glimpse of it. Four or five days after the original sighting, just before I was heading out to chores, Weldon came to the door and told me to grab my camera and come. There was Pat, holding this big gray cat! Wow! I was expecting something a lot smaller.

Pat said, "Here's your ghost kitty! What are you going to name her?"

(Please ignore the fine farm fashions and finish reading the story!) I went back to the house to change into my milk duds and suddenly had the name: Mrs. Mewer! Once again, how my brain works is totally awesome. Pat called her the ghost kitty and, within minutes, I thought of the 1968-1970 TV series, "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir." Muir ... Mewer! aaahh, I'm good!

The Life Romantic

Some people have a very romantic image of life on a farm, of "going green," and getting back to nature - whatever that means! I once posted on Facebook about slogging home through the rain with Weldon after evening chores and a friend wrote, "That sounds so romantic!" Really?!

Recently, I was recalling some of my first thoughts when I started visiting Weldon on the farm. Since we were dating, certainly I must have had some romantic thoughts. I mean, we would spend an entire day together - walking, enjoying local sites, and talking of our lives and future dreams. Young love, even for a couple of old geezers, tends to be romantic!




To my pragmatic eye, the state of the farm was not a thing of beauty: old, dilapidated buildings, piles of rusting junk, broken down vehicles parked helter-skelter, and miscellaneous stuff everywhere. Truth be told, the first time I walked through Weldon's house was almost a "deal breaker" for me.

However, when I returned to Charlotte and prayed about my fears of all the junk and mayhem (seriously prayed about it!!), I knew I would be marrying Weldon, not his house or his farm, and I felt at peace. But, surprise! surprise! In marrying Weldon, I find I married his house, his farm, and his work. Did I  mention his junk??

Romantic has gone out the window and reality knocks firmly, often ferociously, on the door. But it's okay!! I never was much of a romantic, anyway. And now I'm laughing out loud, cuz all these pictures look kind of ... romantic! Eat your heart out, city-dwellers!

BABIES!!!

You just can't stop life! Although much around us at this time of year seems to be dead, dying, or dormant, there are babies being born left and right. New life!

We have three baby kitties scurrying around the hay barn, hoping I won't notice them or try to catch them. I'll get you, my pretties! Then I'll hug you and name you and take pictures of each of you.

Twin bull calves were born a couple weeks ago. Weldon named them Hoss and Little Joe.

Bull calves ... we knew they couldn't stay too long. Not on a dairy farm :-/

Bye bye, babies. We'll miss you.

A little heifer calf was born a week ago and Pat named her Jan (January). Yesterday another heifer was born, which I haven't even seen yet, but I named her Deanna, to go with Jan. Jan and Deanna. Jan & Dean. Get it? I just name 'em ... don't make me explain 'em.

And now, saving the best for last (drum roll, please) introducing Ryland Avery,

our newest grandbaby and, yes, she's a SHE.

Another GIRL!!

Girls ROCK! Girls RULE! Even when they barely weigh 5 pounds.

You just can't stop life!

He's a Comedian!

Although the recessional at our wedding included "The Farmer in the Dell" and the theme song from Green Acres, I did not marry Weldon because he was a farmer nor for the rolling green hills where he lived.

Au contraire, what captured my heart was his kindness and his sense of humor. Now you, too, can experience a few minutes of his creativity and silliness. I hope you enjoy his Christmas story.

May 2012 be filled with strength & peace for each day

and plenty of joy to share with your family and friends.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Mystery Solved

A farm can survive as long as it has able-bodied workers. In my book, without being too stereotypical, those workers should be strong MEN!! Weldon's dad had four brothers, but his dad was the only one who went into farming. I guess he figured some sons would come along to help him carry the load. So, first a daughter, then a SON, and then another daughter.

All three children helped around the farm as they were growing up, but Weldon knew from the start that he wanted to be a dairy farmer, just like his dad. I guess he figured some sons would come along to help him carry the load. So, first a daughter, then another daughter, and then another daughter.

Really pathetic that I don't have a picture of just the 3 girls :-(

It seems strange, and I've often asked myself, "WHY weren't there more sons to put their backs to the plow, to carry on the name of this fine family farm?"

This past Monday evening, I got my answer. Papa John brought his 4H Club (and many of the parents) to watch us milk the cows. One lady asked, "What do you do with the calves?" Weldon replied, "We keep the females and SELL THE MALES. There's NO NEED FOR MALES on a dairy farm." It was truly a "light bulb" moment!

In closing, let me say, "Weldon, you should be mighty glad that your dad didn't subscribe to this dairy farm truth!"

And, by way of a postscript to our fabulous grandsons: This farm maxim does not apply to third-generation males. You are safe!!

Bringing in the Harvest

Without seeing any cows, I know that this is (or was) a dairy farm.  From whence cometh such great wisdom? My clue is the silo. Dairy cows eat silage, and silage is generally stored in silos.

About this time of year, the silos are getting pretty empty. If you have been a diligent farmer, your corn crop is ready to be harvested. And if the good Lord has blessed the crop, it will be enough to fill the silos and feed your cows until next year.

Spring of 2011 was too wet to get an early planting and the summer was very dry; thus Weldon's corn was quite short in comparison to his usual awe-inspiring crop. When we'd drive by, he'd say to the corn, "You should be ashamed of yourself!" But the Lord provided rain before things got too desperate and Weldon did some irrigating down by the river.

Weldon started getting ready for the harvest in mid-September. Preparation involves getting the tractors and wagons ready, sharpening the knives of the corn chopper, climbing in & out of silos to make sure everything is in order, and all kinds of other stuff I know nothing about.

The first week in October saw Weldon & a friend cutting the corn along the road and taking care of the first of the breakdowns.

Can you see Weldon under there?

Chopped corn = Silage

Then came the rain and a week of waiting for the ground to dry out. But when it was time to start up again, with 2, 3, and even 4 guys helping, they were bringing in the corn like there was no tomorrow! Yesterday they finished the fields by the river and behind our house.

Now it's just the corn below Edith's that needs cutting. After all his complaining about the short corn, it appears there will be too much for the silos to hold. But that's a good problem! Big THANKS to the Lord and to the guys who helped so freely and cheerfully.

KIT CARSON & SONS

Before coming to the farm 7 years ago, I had not been around cats very much and certainly hadn't seen kittens being born nor watched them growing up. What a joy and a heartbreak it has been.

Only a few of the cats had names back then, but in May of 2005 I started naming the new ones. The first (and my forever favorite): Kit Carson.

Carson was just over a year old when she had her first babies, giving birth to them in a junk yard down the road. It didn't take me too long to figure out the perfect names: Sanford and Sonny.

Carson in the junk yard, note the old car seat behind the bicycles.

Her babies under the old car seat

Here they are, maybe 2 months old

Carson was always a good mother and always had her babies down in the vicinity of this same junk yard. Over the years, she had a lot of babies, but usually just one or two in a litter. However, once she had four! I wanted to show you a little video of them, but can't get it to download. Maybe next time :-)

In early 2010, the coyotes discovered the farm and the farm cats. We knew that Carson had given birth to new kittens, down the road as usual. We tried to find them so we could move them closer to the house and hopeful safety. Unfortunately, Carson and her unknown number of babies were never found.

As if losing way too many cats & kittens to coyotes wasn't bad enough, on November 6, 2010, Sonny was killed by wild/stray dogs.

On October 8, 2011, Sanford came to the milk barn for his morning neck rub and I could see he was in a bad way. Weldon gave him a shot of penicillin, but he died peacefully that evening.

The only surviving direct descendant of Kit Carson is Samantha. She has already been a miracle kitty, and it seems the coyotes are taking a break, so perhaps she will live a long and peaceful life here on the farm.

This post is dedicated to Kit Carson, Sanford & Sonny, and all the other kitties who have gone on before. I hope they are instigating all kinds of kitty shenanigans in the lush fields and junk yards of heaven.