Issue 11: A Few "Farm Notes Worthy" Notes

Our last family photo before Baby #2 arrives 3 days later!

As the past months have gone by, I have found myself experiencing many things that I call “Farm Notes Worthy," yet, I haven’t had the time or energy to update my Farm Notes. Instead, I’ve been keeping an ongoing list of things that I want to write about when I have the time. Unfortunately, time has not been on my side this past year, as I found myself back to work after my maternity leave this past fall and pregnant with Baby Strom #2 around Christmas! Yes, Farm Notes readers, in case you aren’t a family member or close friend, I am pregnant and due in two weeks! But Baby #2 will be born by c-section, so that’s scheduled for Tues, Aug 30th...unless he or she decides to join us earlier. So, you can see why I haven’t had much time to write. When I had a few moments to myself these past months and felt the inspiration to write, I did complete a few Notes but failed to post them on my Farm Notes Blog. You’ll see them here with the dates I wrote them.

I also knew I had to add “Update Farm Notes” to my ongoing “List of Things To Do Before Baby #2” that I’ve kept on my kitchen table all summer after a high school friend asked me at a wedding a few weekends ago, “What happened to your Farm Notes?” Embarrassed, I admitted that my Blog was still there, it just wasn’t updated. I didn’t have to tell him this since he knew that my last post was way back from Christmas time. So, Matt, thank you for the motivation to get new Notes posted before I’m busy with Baby Strom #2 and chasing Gavin around the house now that he’s 13 months old and almost walking. My hope is to eventually get through my list of “Farm Notes Worthy” experiences and gather them into a bestselling book....that may take a few years, but at least it’s a goal! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading a few Farm Notes!!!

Mouse in the House- Saturday, August 20, 2011

I was woken up this morning at 2:35am to the sounds of a mouse crawling in our air vents. This isn’t the first time it has happened. It was a regular occurrence this past fall and spring to wake up to the mice partying in our vents. I would sit nursing Gavin late at night to the sound of mice making their way from room to room. Or, I’d be suddenly awakened by the vents making noise right by our bed. What peacefulness (insert sarcasm here)! Grant doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal, but for me, it’s pretty unnerving.

In the past year, we have caught a record number of mice in our house. Every time I walk into a room with a mouse trap in it, it’s habit to check the trap. It’s not unusual to find the same traps with a job well done every few weeks. The most traveled route our mice take is along our family room wall and along the wall in our master bedroom (again, how lovely). We have tried to seal as many holes as we can find, but they still find their way into our cozy home. As I cleaned out our basement closets this summer to organize and get ready for Baby Strom #2, I discovered where the mice had been hiding out all winter. As I went through my Christmas Decorations box, I found pieces of chewed tissue paper among ornaments. There were also pieces of corn (I had a corn cob in the garage this fall to hang on our front door and a few days later all the kernels were gone...now I know where they went), pieces of a hanging basket liner (also from our garage) , and stuffing from blankets (we had a moving blanket on the top shelf of a storage unit in our basement that had holes eaten through it). These mice were surely kept warm all winter.

As usual, I prayed that the mouse I heard this morning would not make its way into our bedroom and tried to drift back to sleep, but at 3:15, I heard the “snap” of the mouse trap behind our dresser. My prayers were not answered. Of course this had to happen this morning, because Grant is out of town for a few nights at the Indiana State Fair. This also happened twice this past fall when Grant wasn’t home. The first morning we caught a mouse in our bedroom was the morning I went back to work after my maternity leave. I was woken up at 4:30am by the trap going off. What a wonderful way to start my first day back to school! Anyways, after the trap went off this morning, I then hoped that it was a clean kill, otherwise I knew, from experience, that the mouse would try to drag the trap around for a few minutes as it died. Again, my hopes were not fulfilled. For 30 minutes, I listened to the mouse drag the trap along our wood floor. But, this was different. The trap seemed to be moving more than just a foot or two behind our dresser. Then, I really started praying that it just wasn’t caught by its tail. Sure enough, when I turned on the light, the mouse and the trap were in the middle of our floor with the mouse caught by its tail trying to get away. You’ve got to be kidding me!!! It scurried behind the dresser, and I ran to get a flashlight from the kitchen. After a few choice words running through my head, here was my thought process as I looked for a working flashlight: What am I supposed to do now? I can’t call Doug or Marsha, can I? If I call them this early in the morning to wake them up, they’ll think I’m going into labor, but all I need is for them to come over at 3:45am and kill a mouse in my bedroom. Or, I can just find a bucket and put it over it until a decent time when I can call Doug to come over and take care of it and I can just go sleep on the couch. Or, I can do what my mom always said my grandma told her to do, hit it over the head with a broom...no way!!! Hmmm...I had so many great choices!!

After I retrieved a flashlight from the basement (the only one that was working), I ran back into my room, jumped onto my bed, and tried my best to lean over the mattress and look under the dresser with the light. (In your head, picture me doing this all the while with a huge belly and being only 2 weeks until my due date!) To my surprise, the mouse was gone, with only the trap left behind. Even though the mouse was still lose in my house, I was thankful I no longer had to deal with the problem of trying to kill a mouse on my own. Phew! I carefully got off my bed, not to step on the mouse that may run across the floor at any time, made some noise to try to scare it out of my room in case it was still in there, shut off the light, and jumped back into bed. I no longer heard a mouse in my room, so I was really hoping it had scurried back from where it came from. Needless to say, I didn’t fall asleep for another hour or so. Oh, the joys of living in the country!!!

First Walk of Spring- Wed, March 16th, 2011

Gavin and I went on our first spring walk after I got home from work. As I was taking in the fresh spring air and looking at the wide open country, I could think of no better inspiration to write a Farm Note. My mom took Gavin for a walk down our road earlier this week when she was in town babysitting. Having never taken Gavin on a walk on our road before, I figured it was the perfect day to brave the elements. I knew the weather wouldn’t be a problem today, it’s the road that scares me when I think of pushing a stroller down it. But, if my mom could do it, I could too! So, I strapped Gavin into the garage sale stroller my mom bought for the purpose of using on our dusty road and headed down towards Marsha and Doug’s.

Late February, there were two days where it was just gorgeous out, but the roads were all mud and slush from the road thawing out. Even though I wanted to take Gavin out for a walk, I knew there was no way I wanted to try to brave the elements of our thawing road. What is a thawing road like, you ask...Well, let me tell you: it’s when all the wetness and moisture in the dirt road begins to thaw after winter and the solid, frozen road turns to absolute mud. Driving a vehicle through it is even rough going because the wheels just sink into the mud and get taken for a ride wherever the slush decides to go. On those days, I show up to work in my mud-covered Tahoe as if I had just enjoyed a morning of mudding, a popular hobby of teenagers with old pickups. I have to literally jump out of the drivers seat in hopes of not getting my work pants covered in a layer of mud. Now with a car seat to get in and out of the car on the way to and from work, it’s a bit harder to avoid the mess, but I do the best that a city-gone-country girl can. If I wear heels, there’s really no hiding from the mud, so I avoid those outfits at all costs. Funny, how I now pick my outfits and shoes based on road conditions!

So today, with it being over 60 degrees out this afternoon and having a dry gravel road to walk on, I figured that I’d get some fresh air with the babe. Now I know I haven’t worked out in a while or even gone for a walk, but man, walking on a gravel road four months pregnant pushing a stroller with a 20 pound baby in it is a lot of work. Almost too much work! I only made it 15 minutes before I had to turn around. We stopped at the half way point, a half way point much closer than I’m used to, took some pictures and video of Gavin to document the moment with the rolling fields behind him, and started our walk back. Once we hit the final curve and incline back up to our house, I didn’t think I’d make it. Gavin was enjoying himself bouncing with the rocks beneath him as I struggled to push him through the sandy, rocky dirt. As I pulled into the driveway and stopped outside of the garage, I took my pulse. Whoa, 120 beats per minute! That’s the highest I’m “allowed” to get my heart rate being pregnant. I guess I don’t need to go to the gym and jump on the elliptical to get my heart rate up; all I need to do is walk outside my door and push 30 pounds of stroller and baby on our gravel road.


Sunset Walk- Sunday, March 20, 2011

While walking Dudley outside tonight, I realized one of the reasons I love living in the country. As I listened to the complete silence and stillness of the passing day, I was reminded of the beauty of where we live, especially this time of year when spring is in the air. I haven’t taken Dudley on a sunset walk since last fall when I went with Gavin in his carrier, but the weather tonight was just too perfect to pass up. I left Grant on daddy duty, so I could enjoy a few minutes of the passing day alone with my thoughts...and the dog. Dudley and I only walked half way up our hill, but watching the sun set against the clouds was just incredible. It’s amazing every time. The view at the top is my favorite, but my four month pregnant belly wouldn’t allow me to go that far. That walk has been special to me ever since I moved here. It’s my favorite part of the day...the colors in the sky change every couple of minutes as the sun goes down, the air is completely still (even on windy nights like tonight), and there are no other sounds other than my shoes against the gravel road, Dudley’s paws brushing through the grass, the occasionally train passing through or a bird on its way home to dinner. With each step I take on that walk, I get to experience watching God’s canvas change colors as another day ends.


Fire Trucks- Sunday, March 20th, 2011

I always knew Williamsfield had a fire station that serviced both Williamsfield and Dahinda areas, but I had never seen a firetruck in action around here. In the suburbs, it’s nothing new to pull over for a firetruck on it’s way to save the day. While living in the city of Chicago down the street from a hospital and fire station, my roommates and I heard the sirens almost every day and night in our apartment. Yet, in almost four years, I had yet to see the Williamsfield firetrucks until this past weekend. As I was getting ready to turn onto our road, I heard and saw the sirens of a big, red antique looking fire engine behind me in my mirror. I say fire engine because that’s what it was; not a mega truck that you see nowadays throughout the suburbs and cities, but an engine that looked that it was out of a movie from the 50’s. I swear my brothers had a toy one that looked just like it over 20 years ago!

As I pulled down our road, it followed. I pulled over onto the grass to let it pass, and that’s when my mind started racing. You need to understand that country roads aren’t home to more than maybe five houses. Ours has six along with Happy Hollow, a lake community, that has maybe around 20 homes. I assumed it would turn into Happy Hollow after it made it’s way down and up the steep hill under the viaduct, but it kept on going, faster than before, gaining speed towards our house and our farm. That’s when I felt my heart beat through my shirt, and I tried to think of all the ways our house could have caught on fire: Did I leave a candle burning? When was the last time I used the stove? Did I leave a light on somewhere that could have caught fire? What’s in the barn that could have caught fire? Then, I started thinking of Doug and Marsha’s house: Oh, no, they aren’t there, could it be their house or farm? Their barn fire that took place years ago on Doug and Marsha’s farmstead popped into my head. It killed countless pigs and destroyed their barn.


I sped up and gained on the fire engine in anticipation of the worst news possible. God really got an earful in those two minutes because I just prayed it was not a house that was on fire...or anything that was ours. As I neared the second to last house before ours, I saw the fire engine slow and more lights up ahead. There was smoke coming from the prairie grass around the house, but nothing coming out of the house- thank you God! It seemed as if our neighbors had tried to burn their prairie grass off for it to regrow, but it got out of control and took over their entire yard. The family was standing outside of their house, watching the first fire engine on site do it’s job by spraying down the flames.

This time of year, many farmers and property owners light fire to their fields or grassy areas to burn it all off so vegetation will regenerate faster. It’s common to smell and see black smoke throughout the countryside this time of year on still days when the wind isn’t blowing too hard. As my heart slowed down, I also slowed down the car, took a picture to document the moment for my Farm Notes (you’re welcome), and continued towards our house praying words of thanks. Our house, the farm, and we were safe. Now that I’ve seen the fire engine once around here, that’s enough. I’m fine with never seeing it again.


OTHER RANDOM NOTES:

Trouble in the Country

I woke up one fall morning to Grant asking me, “You didn’t go out stealing mailboxes last night, did you?!” A funny image of me driving around late at night with Gavin asleep in his car seat stealing neighbors’ mailboxes made me laugh. “Ummm, no,” I giggled. Grant had been up late harvesting corn, and apparently when he woke up, he found a neighbor’s mailbox in our driveway. Some teenagers must have been out causing trouble and thought it was funny to ditch a stolen mailbox in our yard. Grant also saw the town cop driving down our road probably looking for any damage that was caused by the troublemakers. I’m glad he didn’t stop at our house to ask me if I was the one who stole the mailbox.

That same evening, I was home alone since Grant was out of town for the night, and I heard four wheelers coming down our road. With Gavin asleep in my arms, I looked out our front window but didn’t see any lights. The sounds got closer and closer and it almost seemed as if the four wheelers were in our driveway. Extremely nervous, I checked the doors to make sure they were locked and tried to hide behind a window to peek out. Again, there were no lights, yet I felt incredibly vulnerable all by myself with a sleeping baby in my arms and no one here to protect me. I thought it could be the mailbox stealers, but no matter who it was, I didn’t want them coming into our yard or close to our home. Thankfully, the sounds eventually passed by our house and continued down our road, not disturbing me, the baby, our our home.

That got me thinking: what would I do, if late at night strangers pulled into our driveway? The city girl that I am, I have an escape plan if anyone breaks into our house while I’m asleep and alone at night: I’d grab the baby, push the screen out our bedroom window, jump out, and run barefoot in my pj’s the 200 yards to Doug and Marsha’s house. What a sight that would be! However, I didn’t have a plan if strangers came to our house when I was awake and all the lights were on and they could see me through our front windows. A phone call to 911 wouldn’t get the town cop here on time, but I could call Doug and Marsha and have them drive over here with their sturdy pick up truck and a hunting gun to scare them away. Now I know this is my city mind racing when I think of these scenarios, but living in the suburbs and the city conditioned me to think of dangerous situations in order to be prepared and safe. Living in the country changes the game plan. I’m assured by Grant that these things will never happen, but after living 24 years in a suburban or urban area, it happened way too often to not think it can’t happen everywhere. For now, when I’m home alone, I guess I have to rely on escaping to my in-laws barefoot or having them come rescue me.


Turkeys

This Thanksgiving, we stayed here in Dahinda and celebrated with my in-laws. The day after the holiday, I was driving home from running an errand up in Williamsfield and saw ten wild turkeys on the side of the road running into a field (yes, I counted them). I had seen one or two wild turkeys off our road before, but I had no idea that we had so many living close by. Mr. and Mrs. Turkey seem to have added eight more to their flock, or whatever a group of traveling turkeys are called, because it looked like it was a whole family of them. At least they got to roam free while the rest of us enjoyed a delicious turkey dinner the night before.


Skunked

Doug and Marsha were over at our house watching a movie, and all of a sudden it smelled like a skunk was loose in the house. The smell was so strong that we had to stop the movie and look for it. I knew it wasn’t actually in our house, but it sure smelled like it. We thought maybe it was right outside our front window on the porch, but when we turned on the light, we didn’t see it. I thought maybe it was in the garage and had come in on Grant’s truck, so we went out there to look around, but all we found was the awful smell. Dudley got skunked this winter out in the barn, but our house had never gotten sprayed before. It was just awful! I can now add “skunk” to my list of things that have invaded my country house these past four years of living here.


Bring Your Tractor to School Day

As I was ready to pull into Gavin’s babysitter’s house to drop him off one morning, I was held up by a group of high school girls peddling small kid-sized tractors. As I let them pass in front of me, I became very confused until I glanced at the student parking lot and saw a row of actual farming tractors in an assortment of colors and sizes. It was Bring Your Tractor to School Day, a popular “spirit day” during FFA Week (FFA is a student agriculture organization). The girls also wanted to be included in the spirit day, so they must have borrowed their siblings toy tractors to take to school as their mode of transportation.

I didn’t take Grant’s tractor to Dunlap on our Bring Your Your Tractor to School Day, but I did participate in FFA Week on Camo Day. I borrowed one of Grant’s camouflage hunting outfits and wore it all day to show kids that I had spirit. Actually that’s a lie, I only wore the whole outfit for the first class period because I started to sweat in it. The camo jacket stayed on all day, so at least I get credit for that. That’s not something I would have done living in the suburbs!

Gavin's 1st Birthday

We are getting ready to celebrate Gavin's 1st birthday next month! I can't believe my baby boy will be turning 1 already! I haven't updated my Farm Notes Blog for a few months, but I promise, more posts will be coming quite soon!!! In the meantime, I've been creating photobooks online of all the vacations we've taken together pre and post-Gavin. The urgency is setting in to get things done that I've been meaning to do before Baby #2 arrives. It's been fun having time to be creative this summer as I chase Gavin around the house while being very pregnant!!! I promise I'll be in touch soon with some Farm Notes postings sure to be an enjoyment to read!

Issue 10: Baby Strom!!!

All I want for Christmas…
I recently received a message on Facebook from a college friend that read, “All I want for Christmas is an updated Farm Notes…you have three weeks, get on it!”.

So, here I am, two days before Christmas, trying to fulfill my girlfriend’s wish! Thanks for the motivation, Brittany!

Baby Strom
Grant and I had a beautiful baby boy, Gavin Edward Strom, on July 17th at 11:04 pm. He weighed 7lbs 7oz and was 20 inches long. Gavin was very punctual and came on his due date! My last Farm Notes I mentioned that I planned a party at our house the night before my due date to make God laugh at my plans, since I hadn’t planned anything all summer in case baby came early. Well, He let me have my party, but after everyone left the party, I had pre-labor signs and told Grant before going to bed, “We’re going to have our baby tomorrow!” which made him respond, “Yeah right!” Sure enough, at 6am the next morning, I had even more pre-labor signs and I started to feel cramping. I knew this baby was coming, ready or not!

It wouldn’t be a Farm Notes without a story pertaining to farm life…and yes, folks, my labor story has a few!



Because our house has an old septic system (and the plumping wasn’t done correctly), whenever we have a lot of people over, our toilets back up and the basement toilet overflows. This means you can’t use the toilets until Grant, Doug, and Marsha work to get the pipes unstuck or until the plumping company comes out to fix the problem. After everyone left our party Friday night, Grant went to the basement and noticed the puddle on the floor outside his bathroom. I heard a loud “AHHHH!” and knew what he was mad about. Too tired to fix the issue that night, he said he’d get it taken care of the next morning and to not flush the upstairs toilet until it was unplugged. From all our baby classes, I knew that a woman in pre-labor was in definite need of a flushing toilet. However, I tried to sleep knowing that I was probably going to have a baby the next morning. I just prayed that God would let me get a good night’s sleep because I had a lot of work ahead of me. I was exhausted from cleaning the house, preparing for the party, entertaining, and staying up late. I didn’t want to continue the party in the middle of the night at the hospital. God would really be laughing then!

Fortunately, I slept until 6am, when cramping woke me up. I was officially in pre-labor and was definitely in need of a working toilet. When I got up, I still used our upstairs bathroom and just didn’t flush….and we all know how often nine month pregnant women need to use the bathroom! Grant went outside to do hog chores and said he’d be back to fix the toilets with his dad. As I kept using the bathroom for a few hours and Grant still wasn’t home, I kept thinking, “Dude, you need to get home to fix this thing because you don’t realize how serious this is…I’m in labor!!!”

Eventually, Grant made it back in the house by 9am with his dad, but they couldn’t get it unplugged. The options were: a) pre-labor in my own house where I felt most comfortable but go to the bathroom outside behind the barn, or b) go to my in-law’s house across the street so I’d have a working toilet…not awkward at all! I chose the later, grabbed a few things I might need (my watch, cell phone, a bottle of water, and my journal—in case inspiration struck to write Baby Strom a letter before he/she arrived, which never happened because I was too focused on watching the minutes tick away in between contractions), and headed across the street.

Oh, and to make the situation even more awkward and more “farmy”, Grant went to a pig show 25 minutes away all morning and early afternoon. He left me with orders to call him if I thought it was serious enough that he would have to come home early before the show ended otherwise he’d be home at 4pm. Grrrrreat! Marsha and Doug also left to go into town, meaning Galesburg, to go get a contraption that would fix our toilet system. That left me, alone in their house with use of their bathroom, watching The Sound of Music and the clock. Just the way I wanted to start my labor!

As the minutes ticked away and my cramping started to become more frequent, I called my colleague and great friend, Sandra, for labor advice. My doctor had left that morning (great timing) on her summer vacation, so when I called the hospital that morning, the doctor on call said to watch my pre-labor signs, keep track of my contractions, and head to the hospital when they were five minutes apart. Sandra agreed. By the time I was 5-7 minutes apart, she suggested I call Grant to get him home and head to the hospital. I wasn’t in extreme pain, just really uncomfortable, so I wasn’t sure what to do. From the way movies or TLC’s “A Baby Story” make it seem, I assumed that I would go to the hospital when I was in extreme pain. So, just to be safe, I made the call to Grant to tell him that he probably didn’t have much time before he needed to come home from the pig show. In the meantime, Doug and Marsha returned with lunch and a contraption that would leave our “toilet without a chance!” Doug was certain it would do the trick! However, I didn’t.

So, I stayed to eat lunch and waited to see when my contractions would become consistently five minutes apart. While continuing to time my contractions, I ate my heart out. I had multiple friends tell me to eat as much as I could before heading to the hospital because once I got there, I may not eat for many hours. I savored every bite of the sub sandwich and sweet corn knowing what was ahead. (Everyone that knows me well, knows that I can’t go without eating a meal, so I definitely tried to eat as much as possible which ended up being a huge mistake.)

By the time lunch was over, my contractions were still 5-7 minutes apart. Marsha went outside to mow the lawn and Doug went back to our house to work on the toilet, leaving me alone to watch my movie. I didn’t last more than five minutes before I called Grant and told him to leave and get home, and that yes, I was serious, we were having our baby today! I got in my car, found Marsha on the lawn mower, pulled up to her and told her that I was headed home to wait for Grant because we were indeed going to head to the hospital. I assured her that I’d be okay waiting on my own for a few minutes before he arrived (and without the use of a toilet).

I wasn’t home for more than ten minutes and Grant pulled in. I took the advice from all my baby books: we both showered, I shaved, I made him a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, packed granola bars, bags of cereal, and water bottles. Weeks before, I packed up what we’d need and made a list of what we had to do before getting out of the house and things we didn’t want to forget. As I crossed the last thing off that list, we took one last picture of me in the house with a sign in front of my belly that said, “Here we go Baby Strom…we can’t wait to meet you!” Within twenty minutes, we were out the door with our already-packed bags of overnight clothes, pillows, relaxation things, cameras, etc. that were waiting for us in a pile by the front door.

I jumped in the car, making sure to sit on a beach towel- another piece of advice from a girlfriend. Actually, she said to put a garbage bag under the towel because if my water broke, the towel probably wouldn’t do. However, I purposely forgot the garbage bag thinking that there was no way a towel wouldn’t be sufficient. We didn’t make it too far: our first stop was across the street at Doug and Marsha’s to use the bathroom one last time before our 45 minute drive to the hospital. By then, my contractions were consistently 4-5 minutes apart and I was having a hard time standing up through them. We hugged his parents goodbye, and Marsha insisted we drive straight to the hospital and not stop to get the car washed, like Grant wanted. Pulling out of their driveway and driving down our gravel road was awful- every little bump made my pain worse. I was really regretting living out in the country on a gravel road, 45 minutes from the hospital!

It seemed like forever until we made it onto a smooth pave road, but in reality it was only five minutes. The entire way to the hospital, Grant counted me through my contractions, as I grabbed onto the door and breathed my way through them. Then, I’d have 2-3 minutes of pure bliss, talking, looking through the cds for ones we wanted to bring into the hospital, only to find myself breathing through another contraction with my eyes closed and griping the door handle and counsel a few minutes later. Grant couldn’t believe how the pain just seemed to go away instantly after the contraction was over.

Instead of dropping me off in front, we parked in the parking garage, grabbed our bags, and walked through the skywalk- what all the nurses told us to do when we went on our tour of the labor and delivery floor. However, we failed to do a practice run of their directions and realized they themselves had never taken their own advice. At the end of the skywalk, we assumed we’d be right at the labor and delivery floor or at least the hospital registration desk, but instead, we came to a dead end with an elevator. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” was all I could muster up at that point. Without another choice, we took the elevator down to the entrance and had to walk down another long hallway to the hospital check in. When I say walk, I mean waddle slowly for about two minutes until I stopping to grab onto something to breathe my way through my next contraction.

We came to the registration desk where an older woman was sitting, who obviously wasn’t a nurse and was VERY slow when it came to using her computer. I told her I had pre-registered months ago as the hospital advised, only to hear many minutes later that they didn’t have my information. As I started telling them my name, date of birth, etc, I had to stop to grab onto their desk, bend over, and breathe through another contraction. In the meantime, the older nurse kept asking me questions as Grant rubbed my back and answered them for me. Did she not realize that I was in labor even though my first words to her were, “I’m in labor” when we walked in?! She then proceeded to ask me, “Are you sure you’re in labor?” That’s when I lost it, and the other nurse sitting next to her came to my rescue and told her, “We’ll finish their registration later, I’m taking her up because she’s going to have a baby!” She helped me into a wheelchair, pushed me down the hall to anther elevator and wheeled me into the labor and deliver center. Did it really have to be that hard?!

I was taken to a room, told to put on a lovely hospital robe, and wait for a nurse to come in to do an examination to just make sure I wasn’t one of those ladies who thinks they are in labor but really aren’t. If that was the case, I didn’t want to know what real pre-labor was like! The nurse, Kristen, (with that name, I knew she’d be awesome!), was shocked that I arrived at the hospital having contractions two minutes apart. We explained that we lived pretty far from the hospital and they sped up pretty fast by the time we left the house. Within a minute of her examining me, and saying I was already a centimeter dilated, my water gushed. Yes, folks, gushed. If that would have happened in the car, I would have definitely needed that garbage bag! Next baby, I will have one pre-packed in the car for the drive to the hospital.

We proceeded to my labor and delivery room where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible in between my contractions. My doctor ended up being the same doctor who was on call that morning. When he came in to see me, he couldn’t believe that my contractions were so close. Upon meeting him, I said, “Well, I was definitely in labor!” He laughed and said, “What happened to coming in when contractions were five minutes apart?!” We laughed and said it was a long story!

I will spare you all the other details. One, because they don’t have anything to do with living on a farm, and two, they are pretty intense. My labor and delivery was not very easy. I made it as far along as I could without drugs and then begged for them at three centimeters only to be told that the anesthesiologist was in a c-section and wouldn’t be available for another hour. I remember responding, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I also had excruciating back labor, so my doctor and nurses wanted me to hold off on an epidural until I could get the baby to flip off my back so I’d have less of a chance to have a c-section. My pain was so intense that I was throwing up my lunch with every contraction. Yes folks, on top of being in pain, shaking, and sweating, I was throwing up every 1-2 minutes with every contraction. I felt like I had run a marathon with every contraction that passed. I won’t ever forget Grant saying, “What! You had sweet corn for lunch!!!” His attempt at trying to make me laugh didn’t work- I have to give him credit though!

After I got the baby to flip off my back and the anesthesiologist was available (thank God for both), I received an epidural and was on my way to a relaxing labor and delivery. Finally, I could smile. Unfortunately, baby wasn’t very comfortable in there and his heart rate began to drop with every contraction. At 11:04pm, Gavin Edward Strom was born by c-section. Even though he wasn’t born the way I wanted, we were both healthy and safe. As the doctor pulled the baby out, he said, “Oh my…Dad, you have to see this! I’ve never seen a cord this wrapped around a baby before!...and he’s peeing!” Gavin was a mover and a shaker—he had his cord wrapped around various parts of his body at least four times, which was the cause of the low heart rate during contractions. He also celebrated his arrival into the world by relieving himself. With only six minutes to go until he’d be a day late, he arrived punctual (like the Strom Family) and was free at last!


Now, five months later, Gavin is a smiley, peaceful, and fun little guy. He is rolling, sticking out his tongue, grabbing onto his feet, and putting anything he can get his hands on in his mouth. He is such a little lover, too. Every person who sees him says what a gorgeous little baby he is. I, of course, am biased and completely agree. There were a few weeks where women would just stare at his blue eyes and comment on how striking they were. These days, he looks a lot like his daddy. Although, people that don’t know Grant, think he looks just like me. Others, who know us both, think there is no denying that he’s Grant’s son. Since Thanksgiving, I am back to work, so Gavin spends the day at his babysitter’s house. She claims that he is the most perfect baby she has ever been around. We completely agree! We couldn’t have asked for a better baby. He is perfect in every way, and we feel so blessed to have him as our son. As Christmas is upon us, we are excited to create new memories and traditions as a family. We are so thankful for all the blessings God bestowed upon us this past year.

Whether you find yourself on the farm or in the city, we hope this holiday season also finds you with many things to be thankful for. God Bless you all!

...more Farm Notes to come once we head into 2011. For now, Merry Christmas and Best Wishes for a happy and healthy 2011!!!

Love,
Kristen

Issue 9: Nine Months of Missing Farm Notes

I know, I know, how has nine months passed by and I haven’t written a new Farm Notes?! During the past few months, I’ve had multiple people email, text, and ask me, “Are you still writing your Farm Notes?” It’s so nice to know that my tales of farm life have been missed, and I apologize for not writing these past nine months. In addition to teaching, coaching two sports, and writing my thesis, I’ve been busy taking care of my pregnant self! Yes, I’m pregnant and due this weekend on Saturday, July 17th! Most of you already know this big news, but for some of you Farm Notes followers that I’ve never met, that is what has been keeping me busy the past nine months, among many other things. For the first five months of my pregnancy, I was just trying to survive the long, stressful nights of coaching. In addition, I was working on my thesis and trying to get it done to graduate this May. My “pregnancy brain” worked overtime this spring trying to think straight as I wrote my thesis making up for the time I didn’t work on it while I was coaching. It was a grueling processes of sitting at my computer typing away and revising over, and over, and over again. The long, late nights were hard on my pregnant back and brain, but eventually and thankfully, I completed it and passed my thesis defense with flying colors! It was the greatest feeling to get hooded at my graduation knowing that all my hard work paid off and that we (baby and I) were able to do it!

With some extra time on my hands before baby arrives, I’m finally getting around to write this issue of Farm Notes. I hope these stories of farm life are everything you’ve been eagerly waiting for. I know I’ve been anxious to share them!

10 Reasons to Marry a Country/Farm Boy
This past winter, Grant and I were talking and I enthusiastically responded, “Thank goodness I married a country boy!” to something he said. With that thought, this list was developed and is finally posted here for you all to enjoy.

Reason #10: When we got married, he already knew how to cook, clean, and take care of a house, so much so that he actually taught me a few things.

Reason #9: He knows what to do with a freezer full of meat.

Reason #8: He knows that when Dudley cuts himself on a nail on his dog house, there’s no reason for me to freak out and rush him to the vet at 9pm but rather just let him heal (and his scar looks pretty good).

Reason #7: An hour before company comes over and the toilet floods, he can remove the toilet, fix the problem, and clean up the mess before people show up.

Reason #6: While driving home in an ice storm and seeing a huge flash along the road, he knows that a power line has snapped close by and takes precautions to make sure we are safe as the lines whip through the wind.

Reason #5: When stuck in the house in an ice storm, he can hook up a generator to keep you warm.

Reason #4: When the barn is iced over and there’s no electricity, he’ll risk falling on his tailbone (again) in the pitch black of night to break out the dog to bring him inside.

Reason #3: If his parents live close by, you can be sure that his father has plowed you out of the house so you can get to work on time on very snowy days.

(As you can tell, this winter brought many ice storms and large snowfalls that threatened to keep us inside staying warm most days and nights.)

Reason #2 (Grant came up with this one): When marrying a farm boy, it also comes with a farm mom, which means if you don’t feel like cooking for him, she will (and she’s much better at it).

Reason #1: Having taken care of livestock most of his life, he’s familiar with taking care of living things, cleaning up after them, washing them, and staying up late nights to deliver baby pigs...a great foundation for fatherhood.

An Even Better Reason #1 (Grant also added this one): The opportunity to know that at least all your babies will be born over 9 lbs! (I’m not sure how excited I am about this one, but we’ll find out soon!)

4am Wake Up Call
This past fall, Grant was out of town and I heard a loud noise outside my house. My heart skipped a beat thinking someone was breaking in. I jumped out of bed to look out the window only to find my father-in-law, Doug, in the morning darkness unloading corn from our grain bins into a semi-truck. It’s true when you hear that farmers wake up with the sun, but it seems that Doug likes to get a head start most days.

Christmas Lights on Tractors
This past harvest season ended on January 5th for the Stroms during the snowy days of winter. To give you an idea of how late that is, harvest normally ends right before Thanksgiving. It was not unusual to be driving down the road and see tractors and combines in the snowy fields trying to pick the crop that was still standing. During those December and January days on my way to work, I found myself pumping my fist in the air in celebration for farmers that I saw in fields working to get their crops in. Knowing how frustrating it was for Grant and his family, I realized that every day farmers could get in the fields was precious time to get in the corn. It all depended on the right weather conditions to be able to pick the corn during this winter season.

Even though Grant and his family were able to harvest all their corn, that wasn’t the case for all farmers around here. Some corn fields were just left by farmers because the snow became too deep to be able to harvest. On the bus to basketball games in February, we’d see corn fields with an inch or two of snow on the stalks. Marsha even joked that we should have decorated the tractors with Christmas lights and wreaths to get us all in the Christmas spirit. For our farmers sake, let’s hope that’s the only time we see tractors and combines in the fields along with snow!

Church Lady Gathering
This winter, I started going to the small Catholic Church here in town instead of the one in the town over. When I say small, I mean small. The most the church can fit is about 50 people. Since I was pregnant and waking up so darn early, there was no more sleeping in for me on Sundays. I figured I might as well go to the earlier mass five minutes away here in town instead of driving twenty minutes to go to the later mass like I had been doing when I cherished my precious sleep.

One Sunday this winter, I was invited after church to join some ladies for donuts and coffee at one of their houses. Two of them are distant relatives of Grant’s and had noticed that I had been at the services recently. Flattered by their invitation, I hesitantly joined them not knowing what to expect or anyone else that would be there. For two hours, twelve of us huddled around a tiny kitchen table eating donuts, coffee cake, and fruit while sipping on our drinks as we listened to stories from the past week. There was no need to be nervous...they made me feel right at home as they asked me questions about my transition to country living, my job, and being pregnant. I laughed along with them as they told tales from grocery shopping escapades, family gatherings, and random people they bumped into. Thoroughly enjoying myself around these eleven other women from town (all at least thirty years years older than myself), I knew I had to make them part of my Farm Notes. I now wish that I had written down some of their stories to share with all of you since they were so amusing. While I haven’t been back to join them (my Sundays have been filled with many other things to do recently), I see their friendly faces at mass as we greet each other with a wave and they check in on how I’m feeling with my pregnancy. I’m sure in the future there will be more Church Lady gatherings that I’m a part of, and I will be sure to share some stories then.

Barn = Storage
Growing up, the storage in our home consisted of the attic, crawlspace, parts of the unfinished basement, and garage. Here on the farm, I find that a barn isn’t just used for livestock and farming equipment. In the past year, an queen sized bed frame, an unused desk, handed down pieces of wicker patio furniture, and a few other odds and ends have found their way into the barn for storage. Dudley’s kennel and dog house was even moved in there a year ago so the elements of nature couldn’t get to him like they did when he was outside.

Cat Disappearances
One week this spring, I noticed Grant was feeling a bit down. When I asked him what was going on, he said that some of their prized farm cats at Doug and Marsha’s had gone missing. Tip, the guys’ favorite cat for the past eight years, hadn’t shown up for over a week, and in the meantime, other cats had disappeared as well. Two of the other cats were tame ones I was going to hand over to a student who said he’d take them for his farm since Doug and Marsha had so many running around. The only reason they could think of for the disappearances was coyotes. This was starting to sound similar to Kitty’s disappearance last year around the same time.

Sure enough, a week later I was sitting on my couch eating breakfast before work, and I saw something that looked like a mangy, large dog slowly stroll across my front yard. Jumping to the window, I realized that it was a coyote, probably one that was stalking our yard for more victims. I immediately thought to wake up Grant so he could shoot it but realized that by the time he’d get his gun it would be too late. When I told Grant about it when he woke up, he assured me that it wouldn’t be too late the next time. However, we haven’t seen any coyotes that close to the house since then and no cats have returned.

Baby Owl Massacre
Walking Dudley one afternoon this summer, I saw a fluffy looking bird hopping along the road outside our house. It seemed as if it’s wings had been injured and it was having trouble flying. I didn’t think much of it, until I saw the same bird again the next day in our yard under a tree. As I walked Dudley a good distance away from it, I just hoped that it would stay out of the road so it wouldn’t get hit by a passing car. It was a sweltering, hot day, and a few hours later when I took Dudley out again, the bird was under the telephone pole standing in the shade. Feeling bad for it, I called Wildlife Prairie Park in Peoria and asked them if they took injured birds. From the looks of this bird, I knew it was a rare breed since I had never seen one like it before. With news that I would have to catch it and bring it to the Park instead of them coming out to get it, I figured I would just leave it up to nature to take care of this injured bird.

Later that same afternoon, when I looked for the bird by the telephone pole, I noticed a bunch of random feathers and then two dead birds that looked just like it a few feet from where the injured bird was still standing in the shade. It also looked like the two dead birds had been partially eaten. I immediately assumed that the injured bird was mourning the loss of his family members by standing so close to them, until I realized that it was actually eating its family members! What?!?! After talking with Marsha and calling Grant, we came to the conclusion that the birds were baby owls (which are meat eaters) and the two dead birds had been electrocuted and the injured one had survived what the others hadn’t. Again, leaving it up to nature, I tried not to think about how to help the injured bird especially after seeing that it had eaten it’s relatives.

The next day, during our morning walk, Dudley and I not only noticed the injured baby owl under the tree that we had seen the past few days, but another one standing next to it. Now I was really confused! Maybe they had lived in the tree outside of our house and fallen out of their nest? Maybe they were learning to fly and had been electrocuted like their siblings? Maybe their mom hadn’t shown up for a few days to feed them? Maybe they were sick? With all these unanswered questions, I walked closer to the two birds and noticed they were standing by another dead one that was lying under the tree. What?!?!? Now we had three dead baby owls. And, within a few hours, one of the alive ones looked like it was dying under the tree, and it was dead soon after. The next day, when I looked under the tree the other baby owl was also dead. In total, we had five dead baby owls! What in the world?!?! We all have never seen anything like it, so it’s not like this is a usual occurrence on the farm. We will never know what happened to cause this baby owl massacre.

Rain Rain Go Away
This planting season started off with beautiful spring weather and farmers logging long hours in the fields. Then, the rain came, and it just kept on coming. I have never witnessed so many severe storms in a three week time period than I did this spring. We would have a huge storm and then two or three days of sunny weather, only for more storms to come along. This kept farmers out of the fields for a good month before they could finish planting because the fields couldn’t dry up. We gained lake front property once again down in the river bottom outside of our house which brought with it the sound of frogs and birds at night, beautiful sunsets off the water, and an occasional blue heron flying over our house. What seemed to be a surprisingly ideal start to planting, ended with not-so-ideal conditions.

Cozying Up in the Basement
The severe weather also brought along fierce winds and tornado like conditions on more than one occasion. Knowing Grant these past five years, I’ve also come to know how Marsha gets over cautious when severe weather threatens the farm. I didn’t experience this same fear until last spring when we had a few similar storms to the ones we had this year. One of my Farm Notes posts from last spring was about a hail storm that seemed as if the world was ending. We also had winds flatten corn fields and storms that would wake me up in the middle of the night with a fear that a tornado was coming towards our house. I have come to become as cautious as Marsha over the course of living on the farm, and this spring the storms were so severe that we would set up camp in the basement.

After returning from a beautiful Memorial Day weekend up at my mom’s lake house, and having left Grant behind to finish planting, I came home to the threat of a terrible storm headed our direction. As I was lying in my comfy bed reading a book and ready to fall asleep, Grant called me to tell me to light candles and set up the couches in the basement because the storm coming our way was going to be a big one. Following his directions, I made up the couches with an assortment of blankets and pillows, lit candles, and brought flashlights downstairs. As I plopped my 8 month pregnant self onto the larger couch, I realized that I didn’t fit! My pregnant belly did not fit comfortably while I laid on my side. Hmm... Looking over to the futon that was part of Grant’s college fraternity room furniture, I decided that the futon would have to do for this pregnant lady. I cleaned off the stuff the futon was holding, made up the bed, and cuddled under the covers waiting for Grant to get home. Within a half an hour, I heard the garage door open as thunder rolled overhead. For the next few hours, the storm plowed through the country and was severe enough that we actually heard it all the way in the basement, which usually is not the case. We stayed cozied up all night on the futon just in case another storm came our way.

Tornado!
Less than week after sleeping in the basement, I saw my first live tornado, and I hope I never see one again! We were at a family graduation party about five miles south of our house when another severe storm came our way. Grant pulled up the radar on his phone and had told me that when the storm hit he wanted me inside instead of out in the detached garage where most people were hanging out eating dinner and visiting. However, the storm came through so fast, I didn’t get a chance to run inside before the rain started to pour down and lightning and thunder rolled over us. I stayed in the garage with the others chatting and watching the lightening, as Grant’s aunt ran across the yard yelling, “Look over there, there’s a tornado!!!” We all stood up and gathered around as she pointed to a thin funnel cloud sweeping across the country about 10 miles from their house. We were in awe as we watched it pick up debris and move west. The rain became so heavy that we were no longer able to follow it with our eyes, and that’s when my awe turned to fear. We were no longer able to see the direction it was headed and I started to get scared that maybe it would turn towards us and come our way. Everyone stood there watching to get a glimpse of the funnel cloud again, but it never reappeared.

As soon as the rain subsided a few minutes later, I ran my preggo self into the house to make sure I was within distance of a basement. Within a half an hour, we got word that Elmwood, a beautiful neighboring town, had been hit and that the tornado went right down main street. Another storm swept through right after the first one, and as the electricity went off we all dispersed to go home not knowing the fate of Elmwood. On our drive home, the radio reported that Elmwood had in fact been hit, buildings were destroyed, and thankfully no one was reported dead. That same night, Elmwood had their Strawberry Festival so the town square was full of people until they saw the storm coming their way. The movie theatre was full as well and as people gathered around the walls to take cover, the roof was ripped off of. A few homes had some damage, but mostly the town was destroyed. Since then, buildings have been torn down and they are in the process of figuring out if they can rebuild the town.

After seeing the tornado, we all now realize the importance of taking cover in the basement during severe weather. I’ve since kept the futon made up with clean sheets in case we have to head to the basement in the middle of the night to keep safe. My aunt even passed on a battery powered radio that we can keep in the basement when severe weather strikes and we lose power. Now I really understand Marsha’s fear of severe weather in the country. (The picture above was taken of an image of that tornado on tv we saw on the news that night.)

My Very Own Landscapers

Grant has been motivated to do some landscaping around the house. He was a big help this spring when he planted flowers in the front of the house since bending down and digging up dirt was not going to work with my pregnant belly. Since then, he’s been wanting to get rid of two overgrown bushes and place landscaping blocks around the flower garden and create another flower garden in the back. One morning, he and Doug showed up in the front of the house with a small tractor and a bunch of tools to cut down some bushes. It was a project fit for two strong men! I didn’t even have to hire landscapers! If I could add another reason to marry a farm boy, it would be that they come with the skills and equipment necessary to do projects, no matter how large or small, around and outside the house.

Finally, I Have A Summer
This summer, I have had loads of free time and relaxation in the air conditioning to get things ready for baby. Having graduating this spring from Bradley after writing my thesis and giving up coaching to start a family, I’ve had my first real summer ever. And it feels SO good! After the first week in June, I had seen Grant more in one week than I had in past summers. It’s been so nice to not go to a hot gym every morning to coach summer camp, spend time before grad school class in my classroom typing a paper, go to class for hours at a time a few days a week, spending my nights coaching summer league basketball or volleyball, or sacrificing three summer weekends to take teams to overnight tournaments. I’ve found myself asking, ‘Why have I always deprived myself of this awesome summer vacation?!’

To keep myself busy, I started keeping lists of things I wanted to get done before baby joins our lives. My summer started Memorial Day weekend, and since then, I’ve gotten through all three lists of “Things To Do Before Baby”. My house is the cleanest and most organized it’s ever been since I moved in, the baby’s nursery is completely ready and organized, all baby clothes are cleaned and put away, thank you cards have been written from baby showers, I’ve found a pediatrician, I started and completed a pregnancy scrapbook, I bought a new Mac Laptop and figured out how to use it, Grant and I went on a Babymoon to Galena (the picture is from our trip), I got a pedicure, we had professional pregnancy pictures taken, I made and froze six meals to eat after baby arrives, and that’s just a start to things that have been crossed off my three lists.

However, after my weekly doctor appointment this Monday, I had to start another list to keep myself from going crazy. At my appointment this week, my doctor said she wouldn’t be surprised if I was pregnant another two weeks. Are you kidding me?! We purposely planned nothing three weeks before my due date just in case baby would arrive early. Well, baby is still not here, and all my things on my list are done. Leaving the appointment, I told Grant that if I’m going to be pregnant another two weeks in this sweltering heat he has to give me lots of kisses, spend lots of time with me, and help to keep me busy so I don’t go insane just waiting for baby. We’ve come up with another list of things for me to do, and Grant has done a great job of keeping me busy. Two days in a row, I joined him, his dad, and their hired man, Kent, for lunch in town. We’ve also spent a good amount of time at Grant’s sisters new house helping them move in this past weekend and a few days this week. Although I can’t do much moving, I’ve watched our niece and nephew, helped unpack some boxes, carried small items, and been the encourager for everyone else moving things. We’ve also made plans to get together with some friends this weekend. I’m hoping the saying “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans” holds true in this case. Until then, I’ll continue to work on my new list of things to do. I’m getting one done right now as I write this issue of Farm Notes!

Trying All the Tricks
As I close in on my due date on Saturday, I’ve been trying all the tricks to get Baby Strom to show up. I’ve taken advice from pregnancy magazines, baby books, and personal stories to try to jump start labor. Here are a few things I’ve tried this past week or two that haven’t seemed to work:
-cleaned the entire house not just once but multiple times
-weeded my vegetable garden that seems to be more of a weed garden than a vegetable garden due to all the rain this spring
-chased around my niece and nephew outside in 90 degree heat for a few hours
-helped Grant’s sister move and unpack boxes
-walked around Walmart (a friend’s advice)
-went for three very bumpy pick-up truck rides (I thought the one today would do the trick)
-taken Dudley on longer walks than I normally do (Like an extra 5 minutes added to the short 5 minute walks he gets now...my body can't take this heat!)

If you have any other advice, I’d love to hear it. You can post a comment to this blog and I’ll try it out! I just think Baby Strom is a little too comfy to want to join us right now. We’ll keep you updated! We can’t wait to share the news of his/her arrival with all our family and friends and to meet our newest addition. Pretty soon, my Farm Notes will become Farm Notes With Baby! Until my next post, I hope your summer is as relaxing and productive as mine has been!

Little Piece of Heaven

The sun is shinning, the leaves are blowing in the wind, and finally it looks, feels, and smells like fall. Days like today remind me of a day last year when I was walking Dudley and a car stopped beside me to ask for directions. The couple found themselves lost on our road since they had taken a detour through the country. After instructing them about where to go, the woman said, “This is beautiful along here. It’s like Illinois’ best kept secret.” She continued looking at the river bottom and the colorful array of trees, “It’s like your own little piece of heaven!” Yes, where we live is beautiful, especially this time of year when the sun is shinning, the crops are ready to be harvested, and the leaves are starting to turn into orange and yellow. Soon, the trees will really put on a color show as the oranges and yellows become more vibrant and reds and purples mix in. These fall days really make me appreciate country living and feel as though God surrounds us in this beauty. We really do live in a little piece of heaven.

Corn Cobbin'

Yesterday seemed to be the first real day of fall. The sun was shining, farmers were out in the fields, and the air was crisp instead of down-right cold. For the past few weeks, fall has felt like winter with 30 and 40 degree temperatures. It had seemed that we skipped autumn. Finally, we’ve had a weekend where farmers could get to harvesting their crops.
When I left volleyball practice in the morning, I had a smile on my face knowing that the guys were going to be able to get some much needed work done. Along with the lack of sun, we’ve had some rainy days that have frustrated farmers (and farmers’ wives). On my drive home, I admired the color of the corn and bean fields swaying under the sunshine. The ready-to-harvest crop always looks better on sunny days. I called Grant with excitement in my voice. “It’s a great day to get some harvesting done!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, it’d be great if we weren’t broke down,” he replied with disappointment.
The thing is, it can be the nicest day of the year for farmers to plant or harvest crops, but if one of their pieces of equipment breaks down, it can hold them up for minutes, hours, or days. This is something I’ve learned the past two years while being a farmer’s wife. They will work for hours at a time trying to find the problem in a huge piece of equipment only to find that sometimes they can’t fix it themselves. Sometimes reinforcements from the Case IH dealer in Galesburg are called to help with the break down.

Since the field was on my drive home, I told Grant I’d stop by since they were just waiting until the problem was fixed. As I neared the crossroads where they were stopped, I knew it wasn’t a good situation. Two semi-trucks, two grain cart tractors, the big tool truck, a Case IH pickup, and the broken down combine were all sitting on the side of the field. A few men were standing in the field while they watched on as three others were on top of the corn head working to solve the issue (the corn head is the piece that is on the front of the tractor that picks the corn).

I parked my Tahoe off to the side and got out to be greeted by a cold wind. The sunshine was deceiving while I had been in the car. Although it looked like fall, it was still quite chilly. Shivering in my sweatshirt and jeans, I walked carefully through freshly cut corn stalks over to Grant. He had a few corn cobs (without pieces of corn on them) in his hands, but I had no idea what they were for. (These cobs are the ones that the combine shoots out the back once it shucks all the corn kernels off. They can be found all over in freshly picked fields of corn.) Not paying much attention to the corn cobs he was fiddling with, we chatted for a few minutes and then walked over to where a few of the guys were standing next to the corn that had yet to be picked. Grant’s grandfather, Grandpa Strom, and the hired man’s son, Brandon, also had the cobs in their hands. Again, not paying much attention, I continued to talk with them about the break down and about my morning at practice.

All of a sudden, in a stealth attack Brandon started throwing the cobs at Grant and Grandpa Strom. Grant dodged the cobs and started to whip others at Brandon who was then hiding in the rows of corns. Grandpa Strom turned quickly around to whip an entire ear of corn at Brandon, missed him, and almost fell over. I jumped out of the way, not knowing what the heck was going on. Doug, Grant’s dad, saw the fight and laughed as he yelled, “You better watch out, Kristen! They’ve been corn cobbin’ each other while we’ve been waiting.” If corn cobbin’ was in the dictionary, it was be defined as the act of throwing corn cobs at another to pass the time spent in a field while waiting for a break down to be fixed. Since I was more concerned with getting warm, I got in my car and left the guys to their corn cobbin’ and combine fixin’.

She took a truckload of farm to the city

Grant's sister, Joanie, is a writer/stay-at-home mom/gardener extraordinaire/excellent cook/farmgirl. She has become a friend that is also family. She also lives about five miles from us in the country in the house that Grant's mom grew up in. Joanie used to work for the Galesburg newspaper up until she started her family, and she continues to write a column, "At The Farm Gate", for the Knox County Farm Bureau Bulletin that goes out to local members. Whenever the Bulletin is delivered in the mail, I turn to page 2 to read her thoughts for the month. Many times I learn something new from her column and other times it makes me feel like I'm not alone in the experiences I have down here on the farm. This month featured one of my adventures I had the first fall I lived in little Dahinda. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I read it!

At The Farm Gate
A commentary for Illinois’ county farm bureaus
October 2009

She took a truckload of farm to the city

By Joanie Stiers

My sister-in-law once drove to near Chicago with a truck bed packed full of flapping corn stalks and backseat loaded with stuffed garbage bags. She spared space for a weekend travel bag, legroom to drive and window clearance to wave at gawking Friday-night commuters on Interstates 80 and 55.
It seems everyone wants a piece of the farm during fall, even in the confines of suburbia. In fact, my sister-in-law, a suburban native, earned honks and hollers as she distributed straw and corn stalks for fall decorations to relatives and friends. She even drove her outlandish ride into gated communities, where friends looked forward to a piece of her farm.
Both she and I also enjoy the traditional décor here and have the advantage of growing it. But as Americans distance themselves from farms and the horse-drawn farming days, decorating with straw and specifically corn shocks continues by tradition, rather than purpose. It is intended to celebrate the harvest bounty. The use of corn shocks originated as a way to recall when farmers hand-cut corn and placed them in shocks throughout the field. Mechanization ended the practice, but the corn shock lives on in rural and urban settings alike.
And as retailers know, some traditions must be bought. My sister-in-law earned enough to pay for the trip’s fuel and a steak dinner for two. Recently, my daughter thrust her pointer finger and cheered as she spotted a 10-foot wall of straw bales for sale at the grocery store. The bales arrived just in time for the first day of fall. (This sighting occurred two hours after we watched an employee decorate a Christmas tree at a local department store.) Anyway, the grocer had enough straw to bed down the 4-H cattle barn fourfold at the county fairgrounds.
My sister-in-law delightfully offered to take some of this homegrown bounty outside her back door to the front door of her suburban childhood home. It seemed an appropriate business venture for this woman with urban connections. Mom helped her cut corn stalks to the appropriate length, pack the truck topper and force the tailgate closed. They shoved straw bales into 55-gallon trash bags to reduce the evidence that a scarecrow had been abused in the backseat.
By her first fall on the farm, she felt like a farmgirl when she swung a corn knife that seemed as old as someone’s great-great grandfather. It was a memorable moment that observed the past while celebrating today’s harvest.