THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE

            In December of 1914 the Great War, as World War I was called, was still young.  (The United States would not enter this war until early in 1917.) The young men fighting had entered the war with enthusiasm. But it was not long before the enthusiasm faded as they watched their friends and fellow countrymen perish. Armies were equipped with repeating rifles, machine guns and a large assortment of artillery, all which tore chunks out of both sides. To protect themselves against all of this, British, French and Belgian soldiers were ordered to dig trenches which were hastily and poorly constructed. In severe weather, as the winter of 1914 was, the trenches caved in or filled with water and/or snow. Unprepared to withstand the cold and rain, the soldiers found themselves in a freezing mire of mud.

Along the front the enemy was no more than thirty to seventy yards away, close enough that those on each side could shout and be heard by their opponent. The men at the front could see indications of civilization in this area. Although badly damaged, villages were still standing; fields, though pitted with shell-holes, were still recognizable as fields. Many soldiers were farmers, and recognized the residue of crops grown in those fields.

            It was Christmas Eve. The German soldiers put Christmas trees in front of their trenches, lit by candle or lanterns. In the silence following the placement of the trees, a baritone voice clearly heard by both sides sang: Still nact, heilige nact . . .  Although the words were strange to the British soldiers, the melody was not. One started to sing with the German enemy, followed by others on both sides; Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright…. Two different languages singing the same song. Soon these two groups of soldiers, enemies in a war not of their making, were harmonizing Christmas songs across No Man’s Land.

After the singing came invitations  from both sides to come out of the trenches and visit. Hesitant at first, the soldiers started to come together in the field between their trenches. What were these young men thinking as they met their opponents who were as miserable as they were? No doubt there were men left in the trenches on both sides that had their rifles ready and aimed in case this was a trap. But it was not a trap. These were moments of rejoicing, of sharing of experiences, of celebrating Christmas as friends.

            Was this Truce only a myth told to pacify families at home? Did it really occur?  Apparently there have been diaries and papers written by men involved in this event, and there have been articles and books written contesting the pros and cons on the actuality of the story.

            Whether it was a myth or an actual event, the story of The Christmas Truce does bring out the good will and peace that one feels at this time of the year.  Perhaps, as we are busy finishing up our Christmas preparations, it would be good to reflect on those who are on the battlefield, fighting to preserve our freedoms as well as freedoms of others. And it  might be a good idea to do some harmonizing with those around us, singing traditional Christmas songs.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

Because this time of year can be hectic, let’s look at some positive things about the hustle and bustle of Christmas time. I love to walk through the mall during this time of the year and watch the people, listen to the music, and observe the little ones visiting with Santa. Even though every one is in a hurry, it seems there is a lot of cheerfulness out there. A lot of “Merry Christmas” greetings.

I enjoy riding around in the early evenings to see how people have decorated their homes and yards; some outlandish, some simple but all of them worth seeing.

The infectious excitement that is around children this time of year is delightful. We have our granddaughter, eight-year-old Sydney, spend a lot of time with us. She brings a child’s enthusiasm of Christmas into our home. She also understands the spiritual side of Christmas and likes to talk about that. Not long ago she came into the house with a bunch of rocks. Asking for a box, she spent an entire evening creating a crèche. It was so simple that it was beautiful. Oh what we can learn from children!

            I have a tendency to bring stress into this season by my procrastination. Not only do I hate shopping, but the thought of it makes me uncomfortable. I’d almost rather go to the dentist, notice I said almost. I have Scotch ancestors, so that is part of the problem as I like to hang onto any money that I have. And I don’t like to be pushed around in crowds like there are at Christmas time.

So this year I decided to set aside September and October for Christmas shopping or at least getting ideas. Besides that, I could do it in good weather and not have to worry about slick roads. Well, in making that decision I forgot that I usually spent a lot of September canning and October is spent trying to get the yard and garden cleaned up, plus we round up the cattle, separate and wean the calves. Those things take time and effort and energy. Plus I have a hard time getting into the Christmas buying spirit unless things are “looking a lot like Christmas.”

So here it is, almost Christmas and I’m still trying to figure out my Christmas shopping list. I’m trying to look back to what I’ve done previous years for ideas. One year I partially solved my shopping dilemma when I made a small book for my mother, with “coupons” she could use. These coupons included things like: taking her out to lunch; helping clean her kitchen cupboards; taking her to Utah to visit my brothers; basically spending time with her. I found, however, that I forgot to do a lot of them as I didn’t keep a record at home of just what I had given her on the coupons. Out of the twelve coupons, one for each month, I probably fulfilled five of them. So learn from my mistake: if you are going to give out hand-made coupons, keep a record of what you promise to do.

I’ve given gift cards to fast-food places to my teenage grandkids. That was easy shopping. But now most of the grandkids have grown past the teenage years, so that won’t work this year.

It’s almost too late to do a lot of sewing or knitting.

I really would like to put a lot of thought and care into each present I give. Facing reality, how much time do I have left for thought and care?

When I don’t have my Christmas shopping done, it makes it difficult me to relax. Perhaps the best gift I can give my family is to refrain from getting caught up in the busyness of the season, and instead enjoy the season for what it is – a time to celebrate the birth of the Savior..

ARE WE READY FOR WINTER?

      

Boy did winter come early this year. Of course, for a procrastinator like myself, as long as there are warm sunny days I can make myself believe that winter will stay away for quite a while. Therefore, I didn’t get my garden cleaned out like I needed to but did get the hoses put away.

            The farm work is about finished. Hay and straw is stacked and it looks like we have enough to see us through the winter, even  if we have another bad one. The one stack shuts off my view of the road to the east of our home. I like to stand at my kitchen window and watch that road for my family coming home from town, or coming from out of town. But that view is gone until spring.

The men have moved the equipment into the shed at the ranch, finished their fall planting of winter wheat, and now just have to check the cattle daily. The calves have been weaned though the cows are still at the ranch, but not for long. The guys have cleaned out the corrals and spread manure in the stubble fields.

The propane tank has been filled, so we will keep warm.

            I was looking in our pantry today, and I think we, too, are prepared to eat well throughout a hard winter. I’ve been canning and freezing produce since early summer, starting with rhubarb, strawberries, and ending with winter squash. I tried canning some new things this year – one is Swiss chard. Don’t know if we’ll like it or not, but we had such a big crop of it, I hated to see it wasted. I’ve got flour and sugar in, plus wheat to grind. And the freezer is full of meat along with the frozen fruit and vegetables.

            I remember as a child looking forward to spring when we could once again have a fresh green salad. Aren’t we blessed to have fresh fruits and vegetables available at the grocery stores all year long, to supplement our canned goods?

            We took our chickens to Boise to Chris & Asa, our daughter and son-in-law. They wanted some bigger chickens and I didn’t want to go through another winter with them. In order to keep the chickens comfortable, we would put small bales of straw up around the coop, plastic on the roof, and have a heat lamp on. With all of that done, we still had to unthaw their drinking water every morning.

AND, to get to the chicken coop we’d have to go down a decline and cross a small wooden bridge. Last winter when I took care of the chickens, I would side step down the small hill and across the bridge. I fell off the bridge a couple of times and ended up knee deep in snow. The fear of falling and hurting myself was always with me, actually the fear that if I did fall no one would look for me until supper time. Then it would probably be too late and I would be found frozen solid. So I’m glad to have the chickens in Boise.

All in all, I think we are close to being ready for winter both in the house and on the farm. That’s a good feeling!

BLACK FRIDAY

Published in Intermountain Farm & Ranch, November 25, 2011

I don’t know why the day after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday. Well, actually I do know. The retail stores hope to make enough money on that day to pull them out of the “red” and have them in the “black” for the year.

But black, to me, is a negative color. Don’t we wear black at funerals? Witches are dressed in black whether on Halloween or anytime they are portrayed. Aren’t the bad guys in Western movies always wearing black hats? When somebody is feeling down, don’t they say their “mood is black?” And now on TV I saw where eating too much black licorice is being blamed for some heart problems, including high blood pressure.

Of course, my idea of starting shopping at 4 a.m. with a crowd of people is enough reason to put me in a “black” mood. I remember the first time I was in a “mob” at a sale. Boyd and I were at Utah State in Logan and there was a sale at the local Penney’s store. Can’t even remember what was on sale, but it was something I wanted and the price was one a college student could afford. AND it wasn’t at 4 a.m.. Penney’s was within walking distance of our apartment, so I walked down there and was surprised. When I arrived I must have been late, because the table where this sale item was placed was surrounded by women, two and three deep. They were shoving and grabbing and  shouting. I just stood back, watched and was appalled at what I saw. It was not a good experience, and I didn’t purchase anything. However,  I did get an eyeful and an earful of inappropriate actions and language.

I did participate in one “Black Friday” sale about 10 years ago. Again, I came home with nothing. It isn’t in me to push and shove. I just don’t need anything that bad. Maybe I’m a coward. I’d like to think that I am above that type of behavior, but I don’t really think that’s it. I don’t think I’ve ever needed or wanted anything bad enough to fight over it.

I do watch the sales in the Sunday paper and the groceries specials that come out in the Wednesday paper. I made a list just a week ago and went to a store to pick up the things I wanted to purchase. Got there too late, they were sold out of those items. Was I upset? No, I just decided to watch the sales again and try to get to the store in a more timely manner. And I didn’t have to fight traffic and other buyers at 4 a.m.

I usually shop groceries between 5 and 7 a.m. but that is totally different. I go at that time because I don’t want to fight the crowds. Most of the time the employees of the store I go to are stocking shelves, but I can work around them.  And I have met some really fun and delightful people who also love to shop at that time of the morning. Usually we take time to say “hello” and comment of mundane things. It’s almost relaxing.

So I will stay in bed this “Black Friday” and not worry about missing the wonderful sales.

FALL WEANING OF THE CALVES

                                          Fall round-up to separate cows and calves.

           It’s time to wean the calves. Some of the older calves will probably already be weaned by their moms, and that’s

            I wear more than one hat at this time of the year. First I’m the cook. I have to decide what I’m going to feed the multitude that shows up to help round up the cows and calves. I usually have two menus in mind, one for a cold stormy day, and another for a warmer day. That way I can usually decide the day before the grand event which menu will work best. I get the beans cooked for chili, and the hamburger browned for sloppy joes. Those are in the freezer about two weeks before, and the rest of the ingredients for either are on hand.

            This year we moved our camp trailer over to the corral at Hell Creek, so that was much easier on me – I didn’t have to transport the food. We fed 11 the first day, 13 the second day and lost count the third day as we had quite a few come to help that we hadn’t planned on. But everyone got something to eat! I had a commitment on the third day so just made sure that food was at the ranch for the guys and they served themselves.

            We had a big crew helping with our three day round-up. Because summer pasture covers quite a large area, the men divided it up into three areas and worked one area a day for the three days. It worked out really well. 

            The other hat I sometimes wear is the “helper” hat. I might be needed to drive a pickup or the gater and be right out with the men rounding up the animals. I no longer ride a horse, didn’t do much of it before, but at this age the saddle and I don’t always feel good together, besides the problem of getting my leg up and over the saddle. Gravity has a greater pull on my body now than it used to.

            We always hope for some rain or even snow a few days before we start the round up, so we can possibly get by without having to doctor for dust pneumonia. That can kill a calf pretty fast, so we don’t want those calves running through any more dust than necessary.

            As the cows and calves are separated, the noise is almost deafening; the calves bawling in one pen, cows answering from another. We truck the calves to the valley to put in corrals behind our house, right close to our bedroom window. The calves bawl for about three days and nights – 24 hours straight – or at least it seems like it. And it keeps us awake. Have you ever been around a group of babies, say about a year old or a little younger when one of them starts to cry? It isn’t long before all of them are crying.  Well, calves are the same way. Wean one calf and the time is much shorter for the bawling period than when a herd of calves are weaned.

            The cows will be trailed down in about a month, and when they get down they nor the calves seem to recognize each other. The time of dependence is gone.

           

SLOWING DOWN

I'm trying to slow down. It hasn't been easy. And I find myself regressing quite often. Take last Tuesday, for instance. Getting morning rituals (like breakfast, making bed, doing dishes) over with, I kept plowing on.
After water aerobics, I decided to go to the local outdoor market and pick up some corn to freeze. While there the apples caught my eye and I thought, why not make apple pie filling today too.  BAM! There went slowing down for the rest of that day. AND while I was making the apple pie filling, the idea of making an apple pie came to me. Why not?  Of course, after doing this sticky kind of canning and freezing, the kitchen floor had to be mopped.  But the house smelled good with the apple pie baking. By the time Boyd and Jon got down from the ranch, I was exhausted and fixing supper was not something I could face. So we went out for a hamburger. Not a good day as an example of slowing down!

But the days I have periods of slowing down have been worth the effort. The interesting thing about this is I have to be fully aware of my effort to slow down in order to make it work!

Yesterday, Saturday, I did a pretty good job of it. I got a few things done without rushing through them. Then Boyd asked if I wanted to ride to the ranch with him to check the cattle. I didn't hesitate. When we got to the house we transferred from the pickup to the John Deere Gater. What a wonderful afternoon: hair blowing in the breeze created by the Gator; dust flying around us; hot sun shining on us. 

We rode around one of the old homesteads, walked around the foundation of the home on that piece of land, and some some of the old rusted tools and equipment left behind. Then we drove around some of the springs in the area - most of them drying up if not dried up because of the lack of rain this past month. 

The fall leaves on the trees were beautiful.  We did see one pine hen, but that was the only wild animal we encountered, but it was the middle of the afternoon when we were riding around. If it had been later in the day we would probably have seen deer and moose.

No, I didn't get everything done I had planned on, but those things can be done another day or just eliminated competely from by my "to do" list.  What I did accomplish was a pleasant afternoon with my husband, spent in an area I love.

Last night I was reading and came upon a sentence that summed up my day: "I'd forgotten that quiet pleasures can be good for the soul."  Yes, yesterday my soul was replenished, my physical being was replenished! I must do this more often!

WHAT IS VETERAN'S DAY

Published in the Intermountain Farm & Ranch on November 11, 2011

            On the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month of 1918 an armistice between Germany and the Allied nations came into effect. On November 11^th, 1919 Armistice Day was commemorated for the first time. This day was originally intended to honor veterans of World War I. However, World War II required the largest mobilization of service men in the history of the United States. American forces also fought in Korea. So in 1954 the veteran’s service organizations urged Congress to change the word “Armistice” to ‘Veterans”. Congress approved this on June 1, 1954, and November 11^th became a day to honor all American veterans, where ever and whenever they had served.

Lloyd Crystal, my uncle, was born in 1896, and as a child, moved to Idaho with his family. He was raised on a farm in the Garfield area, where his father farmed with horses. From his father, David, and two older brothers, Ray and Vern, Lloyd learned how to take care of the horses and loved working them.

War was going on in Europe in 1917 and on Tuesday, April 3, 1917, Lloyd volunteered to enlist in Company M. Second Idaho Infantry National Guard. He was one of the first from Jefferson County to volunteer his services as a soldier. On April 6, 1917, President Woodrow Wilson declared war. August 17, 1917, this entire Idaho Regiment was given a National Guard honorable discharge and the Company transferred into the federal service.

            At Christmas time, 1917, while stationed in Camp Merritt near Tenafly, New Jersey, he wrote the following to his sister: “Dear sister: Old Santa Claus was a pretty good sport to some of us fellows for he came while we were asleep and hung our socks on the foot of our beds with a piece of wire. They were filled with any old thing that came in handy. I found two bottles of ink belonging to the office, a hob-nailed shoe, two hammers, and the stove crank.”

            On the Night of January 9, 1918, Lloyd’s Company received orders to prepare to leave early in the morning. They traveled to the White Star Line Docks and boarded the British ship Olympic. They sailed to Liverpool, England, then on to France where the battalion was split up at Sells-sur-Cher and were sent as replacements to the front. Lloyd with some others was sent to Headquarters Company of the 120^th Machine Gun Battalion, 32d division.

            His letters home were few and far between and the return address read “somewhere in France.” In July, 1917 his folks received a letter in which he had attached a postscript: “I will write again in a few days, Mother, as it is nearly another birthday.” That birthday, his twenty-second one, was the last day he lived. The next day he was sent to fill the company’s water cart. He managed his horses in the way he was taught – with love and kindness, working and talking with them like old chums. On that day, June 27, 1918, with the shells bursting, the deafening roar in the distance and the air filled with flying shrapnel, he walked along beside his horses to his death.

            Lloyd Crystal was the first World War I fatality from Jefferson County and was buried in the Arlington Cemetery in Virginia. 

HALLOWEEN JACK O'LATERNS

Published in the Intermountain  Farm & Ranch, October 28, 2011

Halloween is upon us. I can remember the fun time of going trick-or-treating around our country community. We didn’t have costumes purchased at the local stores, but resorted to what we could find in our closets, or sometimes Mom would make us something, using crepe paper and her imagination.  Some examples of our costumes: ghosts, using sheets for our costume; farmers, using Dad’s overhauls; a ballerina, with a crepe paper tutu; a pirate with a patch over an eye; a “bum” with a bandanna tied onto a stick carried over a shoulder. There would always be a large assortment of masks of Disney characters and of course the scary ones that we could buy.

Kids then and now make Jack O’Lantern's, carving them at home, in school, at cub scouts and girl scouts. Every October, these carved pumpkins, with a lighted candle in them, sit on porches, doorsteps and windows of homes in the United States and other countries.

            This practice originated from an Irish myth about a man who was nicknamed “Stingy Jack.” Stingy Jack apparently invited the Devil to have a drink with him. Being true to his nickname, Stingy Jack was hesitant to pay for his own drink, so he convinced the Devil to turn himself into a coin that Jack could use to buy their drinks with. Once the Devil did so Jack decided to keep the coin and put it in his pock. He had a silver cross in the same pocket, and with the coin next to the cross it prevented the Devil from changing back into his original form. Jack finally freed the Devil with the condition that he would not bother Jack for one full year and if Jack happened to die within the year the Devil would not claim his soul.

            The next year Jack again tricked the Devil by getting him to climb a tree to pick some fruit. While he was up in the tree, Jack carved a sign of the cross into the tree’s bark so that the Devil couldn’t come down. This time Jack had the Devil promise not to bother him for ten years.

            Jack died soon after this. The story goes that God would not allow such a deceitful person into heaven. The Devil, upset by the tricks Jack had played on him, kept his word not to claim his soul, thus no allowing Jack into hell. The Devil sent Jack off into the dark night with only a burning coal to light his way. Jack put the coal into a carved-out turnip and has been roaming the Earth with this turnip since. The Irish began to refer to this ghostly figure as “Jack of the Lantern,” now simplified to “Jack O’Lantern.”

            In Ireland and Scotland, people began making their own versions of Jack’s lanterns by carving scary faces on hollowed out turnips, and potatoes then placing them in window sills or near doors to frighten away Stingy Jack and other wandering evil spirits. In England, large beets were used. As people from these countries immigrated they carried with them the Jack O’Lantern tradition. Coming to the United States they discovered that pumpkins, a native of America, made perfect Jack O’Lantern's.

            Kind of fun to learn some of the history of our traditions, isn’t it? Have a fun and safe Halloween, and watch out for "Stingy Jack."

HUNTING TRADITION

                              Grandson Skyler Young, ready to go hunt to provide food for his family.
                                Article printed in Intermountain Farm and Ranch, October 14, 2011

Hunting has been a part of my life forever. I can remember, as a young girl, working in the potato fields and the goal was to get the potato harvest finished in time for the men to go deer or elk hunting. The men talked about it all of the time. And it seems like we always accomplished that goal. I never went hunting; it was a “man” thing to do back then. 

When Boyd and I were first married, a productive hunting season helped feed our family through many winters. I learned to flavor the meat of even the oldest deer so it was edible. Maybe not delicious, maybe not tender, but edible.

The day before opening day of deer or elk season, I would load the car with groceries, get the kids off to school, and drive to the ranch. I’d light a fire in the wood cook stove upon arrival and shut the doors to the rooms next to the kitchen so as to centralize the heat in the room I would be occupying. Then – I’d mix bread, start a big stew on the stove, and make pie dough. While the bread was rising and the pies baking and the soup simmered, I would sweep and mop the floor – even venturing into the colder rooms to straighten the beds and sweep and mop those floors. While the bread baked, I’d wash and dry the dishes, so as to leave everything neat and clean.

After a day of cleaning and cooking, I would be able to get back to our valley home by the time the kids got home from school. And the hunters would be going to a warm house with food waiting for them, the smell of freshly baked bread greeting them as they opened the kitchen door. It seemed so much easier to get that job done at the ranch rather than baking at our valley home and sending the food with Boyd as he left to hunt.

I know that sounds like a lot of work, but I loved being at the ranch then as much as I love it now. There was and is a peacefulness there that I love to bask in. Having no electricity, a battery operated radio is used to give us any news that we think we might need. Most of the time I don’t even turn on the radio; just enjoy the solitude.

There have been many years of hunting, many stories told involving our family and the hunts they have been on.  Last year, as our youngest son, Jon, and one of our grandsons, Skyler, prepared to go hunting on opening day, I fixed sandwiches to send with them. As they walked out the door, Skyler looked at me with a big grin on his face, grunted like a cave man and said, “Me man!”

Were they able to get their prey? No. In fact they didn’t see much game that morning, but did see lots of hunters. However, they participated in the tradition of hunting on opening day. A big event in the lives of both, young men who come from a family of hunters! They were going out to provide food for their family. And though they didn’t see anything to shoot at, they went through the motions expected of a hunting family – they went.

AUTUMN LEAVES

                                                               Fall colors at the ranch.
                              Article printed in Intermountain Farm & Ranch, September 30, 2011

         This is a beautiful time of the year as the trees and bushes don their fall wardrobes of red, yellow, orange, and all shades in between. I love to ride through the back country in the fall and marvel at these panoramic views. Around Palisades Reservoir there is usually a fantastic display of fall colors with the aspens and pines combining yellows and greens. Up toward Bone and Gray’s Lake are usually some wonderful patches of fall beauty also. The early morning or late evening sun can really enhance the colors and that’s when I like to take pictures.

The other day Boyd, our son Jon, and I rode up through Brockman and back on the Skyline Road. The leaves were just starting into the “changing of our wardrobe” mode. Some pretty yellows mixed with the greens were visible, but very likely in another week the oranges and reds would overcome all. This has been a dry summer, so there were a lot of trees with “dead” looking leaves. Those aren’t pretty!

            I’ve done a bit of research on the chemical aspect of our fall colors.

There is an old Indian legend that says every fall, heavenly hunters kill and cook a great bear. Blood drips from the sky on the leaves of the earth. Then bear fat spatters from the cooking pot onto leaves, spotting the blood-red leaves with gold.

            And there’s also the tale of Jack Frost, in the fall, flitting from tree to tree with his paint brush and palette to paint the leaves different colors.  Fun stories to tell, but there is more to the story than this.

            Actually, it is three color pigments in combination – xanthophyllous, carotene, and anthocyanin – hiding behind the green chlorophyll in the leaves that dresses them in their autumn finery.

            Variables come into play here, causing the brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. It seems that the brightest colors come following a warm, dry summer. Dry conditions encourage the production of anthocyanin. Drought conditions will not bring the same results.

            A warm dry summer has to be followed by temperature extremes in autumn. Leaves store more sugars during warm days and the sugars remain in place if the nights are cool. Sugar is a color-enhancing ingredient. So, the warmer the days and cooler the nights without freezing produces the most beautiful effects.

Moisture is also important. Just like the story of Goldilocks and the three bears:

·         too much moisture can ruin the leaf colors;

·         too little moisture causes the trees to drop the leaves early;

·         but just the right amount of moisture adds sparkle and brightness of color to the leaves.

            So, if the summer has been warm and dry – like ours has been this year - and if good rains come early in the fall and then clears, the chances are excellent for natures fall art show.

            Genetics also determines the range of shades within a color. For example, in aspens you can see the shades of yellow from yellowish-orange to yellow canary, and all the shades in between.

Maybe this has been too much information, but I find the factors determining our fall colors interesting. It just adds to the beauty and mystery of our seasons. Let me encourage all of you to go for a ride and view these things yourselves.

FARMING MAKES SCENTS

                                                      The great cook of "skunk smelling" food.
                                             Article published in Intermountain Farm & Ranch, Sept 16. 2011

One evening I was sitting under the apple tree protecting my chickens from being chased as I let them out of their coop for a few hours in the evening. (Our 7 month old pup thinks the chickens are here for her entertainment.) There wasn’t a breeze but the evening wasn’t quiet – our neighbor was cutting his wheat. That sound is a pleasant one. Got me thinking about the senses used in farming.

We each have five senses: sight; sound; taste; smell; and touch. The sense of smell is one I want to address.

There are some wonderful fragrances that come with the farming business: when the soil is first being worked in the spring; a rain storm; fresh mown hay; wheat when it is ripe and ready to harvest; also wheat as it is being harvested; burning leaves and/or stubble. Because of the Clean Air Act, we don’t have the burning ones very often. The Clean Air Act was necessary, but I always think of fall and burning leaves being synonymous.

The smells of cooking aren’t ones that are limited to the farming community except at noon. On the farm dinner is usually served in the middle of the day. With cooking comes the aroma of fresh baked bread, vegetables, roast or steak, and often cakes or pies.

There are some not-so-pleasant fragrances associated with farming:

            Fuel: Diesel and gas both have strong odors and when fueling the equipment if some spills and gets on clothes, the smell remains until the clothes are vigorously washed.

            Cow/horse/pig/chicken etc. manure. A wet spring can really increase this odor. Most of the time it isn’t bad until it’s loaded into the manure spreader and moved out to the fields as fertilizer. One time we raised some pigs – not many, just 3 or 4 for butchering. A friend visited and the odor of pigs was a bit strong. She asked “doesn’t that smell bother you?” I sniffed the air, looked her right in the face and replied “that smells like money to me.”

            I know our non-farming neighbors often complain about some of the farming scents. But agriculture isn’t the only business with offensive smells. Have you ever walked into a grocery store and the smell of raw fish and meat is so strong it almost takes your breath away? How about some nursing homes, not as much as it used to be – but the smell of urine, sick bodies and disinfectants attacks you upon entering the building. The sewer treatment plant lets off a powerful odor, but you and I contribute to that smell so we shouldn’t complain about it. The smell of the out house wasn’t a pleasant one either, but we learned to live with it.

There is also the smell of wild animals – skunks mainly. That smell is experienced by our urban neighbors also.

Apparently the smells of cooking are not always pleasant at our home. A few years ago when I was a nurse at EIRMC, I was working the 3-11 p.m. shift. One night when I got home, Boyd was asleep. A skunk had sprayed close to our bedroom window. As I was getting ready for bed, the odor of the skunk was really strong. Boyd raised up in bed, looked right at me, sniffed the air and asked “whatcha cooking?” Without waiting for an answer he lay back down and closed his eyes. (He claimed later that he never woke up as he couldn’t remember doing this.)

Our son Jon came home from a scout camp telling me that the meals reminded him of home – all smelled burned. I guess this tells you what kind of a cook I am.

            Scents do affect our lives. We all love the fragrance of flowers, of good home cooked meals, but we need to be tolerant and understanding of other scents connected to living with and around animals and people.

TWO FUN DAYS AT THE BONNEVILLE COUNTY FAIR

                                 Kira showing her chicken at the Western Idaho State Fair in 2010

                                Published in the Intermountain Farm and Ranch on August 19, 2011 

            We spent two enjoyable nights at the Bonneville County Fair this year. On Tuesday, August 2, we watched as the participants presented their beef to be judged. I am always amazed at the ability of our young people, their perseverance, patience, and courage in working with animals. Some of the youth couldn’t see over the animals they were showing, and those animals outweighed their owners probably ten-to-one. Then on Thursday evening, August 4, we observed the sale of these animals. The businesses in and around Bonneville County were most generous in their support of this sale. And it was fun to see the excitement and radiant smiles of those youthful animal owners as their beef, pigs, sheep, and goats were sold.

            Doing some research to find out more about the 4-H program these youth are involved in, I discovered that in the late 1800’s, researchers at universities were aware that farmers did not easily accept new agriculture methods being developed. However, the young people were open-minded and willing to experiment with new ideas and then share these things with the adults.

            The idea of 4-H using practical and hands-on learning came from the desire to make public school education connected more to the country life. A.B. Graham started one such youth program in Clark County, Ohio, in 1902, which is considered to be the birth of the 4-H program in the United States.  That same year, T.A. “Dad” Erickson of Douglas County Minnesota, started local agricultural after-school clubs and fairs. Jessie Field Shambaugh developed the clover pin with an H on each leaf in 1910, and by 1912 these clubs were called 4-H clubs.

            Those four H’s on the clover pin stand for: Head, Heart, Hands, and Health. The motto of the 4-H club is:  

            I pledge

            My Head to clearer thinking,

            My Heart to greater loyalty,

            My Hands to greater service,

            My Health to greater living,

            for my club, my community, my country and my world.

            I was especially touched both nights we attended the fair by Mason, a young man who suffers from Muscular Dystrophy. Mason showed his steer on Tuesday night, and walked him around the ring on Thursday night. He had a friend who helped him, but Mason was the one who held the halter most of the time. The friend was there in case of problems, to help when needed, to use his Hands for “greater service.” The night of the judging, the judge acknowledged Mason and his helper, saying that they were true examples of the teachings in the 4-H program, emphasizing service. Mason showed courage in ways many of us can’t understand. In his struggle to walk, he walked tall and proud. And not only did he show and sell, but he had worked with the steer for at least five months. He persevered; he did what he wanted to do even if it was hard.

            Mason, maybe you can’t run and play liked the other children your age, but you have shown a maturity beyond your years in your ability to accept your limitations and your desire to push yourself as much as is physically possible. You are an example to all of us.   

            My hat goes off to the volunteers who lead this youth, encouraging them, teaching them, and spending time with them. What a tremendous service you do, not only for the youth but for the community, country, and world. You are training future leaders to take responsibility, to realize that to gain anything work has to be involved, and to give them self confidence.

            Also, the parents must be recognized. They work side by side with their children, drive them to meetings, encourage them, push them, nag them, and then spend hours helping them at the fair. I saw many tired but proud and smiling mothers and fathers those evenings.

            Yes, we had two evenings that were wonderful, enriching, and educational. I hope I remember the lessons learned there.

THOSE LAZY, HAZY, CRAZY DAYS OF SUMMER

Lunch at the ranch.
Published in Intermountain Farm and Ranch on August 5, 2011

“Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer,

Those days of soda and pretzels and beer.

Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.

You’ll wish that summer could always be here.”

Do any of you remember hearing Nat King Cole sing that song? He was one of my favorite vocalists back then. The words of that song, as I look at summer, make me wonder who has a “lazy, hazy, crazy” day when living on the farm. Let me take that back, there are a lot of “crazy days.”  But once the tractors pull into the field in the spring, there is no such thing as a “lazy” day on the farm.

The long days and the warm weather when you can do so much more outside, are something to look forward to, yeah those things are good. But lazy? No such word in a farmer’s vocabulary

            As we drive home from the ranch in the evening with a load of hay, we pass a lot of our urban cousins in vehicles towing boats either to or from Black Tail for a “lazy, hazy, crazy” summer evening on the lake. Is there a touch of envy in this for me? Sometimes. But there is also contentment in our way of life.

            I’m transported back to my teenage years and the fun and “crazy” things we did. Mother used to make homemade root beer. (Those bottles have been known to explode on the fruit room shelves on a summer night. Maybe that’s one of the “crazies”.)  When we worked in the hay, she would have a quart or two of that special brew in the fridge at all times. My mouth waters right now as I think about that cold homemade root beer.

            As kids we would work in the fields and then spend our evenings running around with our friends. We had endless energy, but no money. Of course, gas only cost $.20 a gallon so we didn’t need much money. We would go swimming in Sand Creek, play volley ball at Tautphaus Park, or sit around and visit. Sometimes we would be out late because of the long days. Then it would be hard for us to get up in the mornings so we could get our work done.

            Dad made homemade ice cream – well actually Mother stirred up the mix for the ice cream and Dad and the kids did the work of turning the handle of the ice cream maker. We would go into Idaho Falls to get the ice and then each of us six kids would take a turn turning the handle. We looked forward to when the paddles were taken out of the can and we could get our first good taste of that cold, smooth, treat. No store purchased ice cream has even compared with Dad’s homemade.

            If it rained enough that the farm work stopped, we would pack up and go to Mack’s Inn in Island Park, rent a cabin, and spend a couple of days. Uncle Lawrence, Aunt Zola and their family usually went with us. Dad and Uncle Lawrence fished while we kids played in the river. This tradition of a rainy day activity carried over into our married life. Our youngest son, Jon, mentioned just the other day that he never remembered going to Mack’s Inn during good weather, it was always raining. Maybe it’s because of these memories that I love to travel in a storm!

            Summers are full of hard work on the farm – early rising, many times late retiring; and if irrigating there is the nocturnal work that goes with it. But there’s usually is time for a picnic out on the deck, or a ride to see the wild animals in the evening at the ranch. These are our “lazy” times. We are blessed to be farmers!

TAKING THE BITTER WITH THE SWEAT

                                           Not quite dandlions, but at least yellow!
                                     Published in Intermountain Farm & Ranch, July 22, 2011

            There are a lot of memories that come with the cutting of hay. Having been born and raised on a farm, at a young age I was expected to be out in the field helping with the raking of the hay. I love the smell of fresh mown alfalfa and the sight of the neat rows lying in the fields. Even though there have been a lot of changes in farming with bigger and more efficient equipment, those big machines don’t eliminate that fresh-mown hay smell! And there is the good feeling of getting prepared for the long winter months by having enough feed for the cattle.

            As with all farm jobs, cutting, baling, and hauling hay is hard work. Before we had some of this newer equipment, neighbors used to work together at the ranch at haying time. And I would be expected to cook for the extra crew. Boy could those men eat. But there was one time, a number of years ago, when they didn’t eat everything on their plates.  

            It was time for the first cutting of hay and we were running a bit short on cash.  The previous year’s grain and calves had been sold, but that money had been used to pay outstanding bills. We raised our own cattle for meat; ground our own wheat into flour for bread; had a garden and I canned large amounts of produce from that garden. These things really helped. However, the first cutting of hay comes before the garden starts to produce much of anything except radishes. 

            One day I wanted to serve a green salad with the dinner being prepared for the hay hauling crews, so I asked Boyd if there was money to buy groceries. “Don’t have any,” was his reply. (He’s a man of few words.) That was as close to a “no” as could be and never being one to accept “no” for an answer, I decided to take things into my own hands. I remembered hearing that dandelion greens, when young, were edible and could make a good, but different, addition to any salad. However, as the dandelion plant matures and flowers appear, the greens become bitter. First cutting of hay comes after the dandelions have matured and flowered. 

            We certainly had a good crop of dandelions that year. Going out into our yard, I picked a bowl full of dandelion greens. Washing the greens, I combined them with radishes from the garden. I didn’t have any lettuce to dilute the dandelion flavor, so the dandelions weren’t an “addition” to the salad, but the only greens in the salad. But this salad looked right pretty with the red radishes and green dandelion leaves.  

             I watched closely as the men dished up and sampled their salad. No comments were made, though I noticed a lot of strange looks on faces as they ate this exotic salad. Even a liberal application of salad dressing couldn’t take the bitterness from those greens. There were no requests for seconds on the salad and all of the plates had salad left on them when the meal was over.

             As they left the table and walked out the door to head back to the hay field, the always courteous farm helpers thanked me for the meal and complimented me on my cooking. My husband, however, walked past me and through the door. He stopped. Turning around, he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, opened it and handed me some money. “Get some groceries,” he said as he left the house and joined his crew.

            Not only are farmers hard workers, but they are quick to learn. I never had to resort to the dandelion trick again.  In fact, if I ever mentioned that I needed money for groceries, I would be told there he would find some somewhere. 

APPRECIATING OUR FREEDOMS

                                               FIRE WORKS ON THE 4TH OF JULY

            Just this week we have celebrated one of our biggest holidays, the 4^th of July. Amid the parades, ball games, picnics and fire works, how many of us have taken the time to stop and think of why we celebrate July 4^th? I’m going to give you a short history lesson.

            Unrest was prevalent in the colonies in 1776. The people were upset as Great Britain kept trying to make them follow more rules and pay higher taxes. These colonists no longer wanted Great Britain to be able to tell them what to do, they wanted their independence.

            In 1776 Congress met in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and appointed a committee to write a formal document that would tell Great Britain that the Americans had decided to govern themselves. They wanted the citizens of the United States to have a document that spelled out what was important to our leaders and citizens so they committee asked Thomas Jefferson to write a draft of the document. Jefferson worked on this assignment in secret for days. On June 28, 1776, the committee met and read Jefferson’s paper. They made some changes and declared their independence on July 2, 1776. This was officially adopted on July 4, 1776. That is the reason July 4^th is called “Independence Day.”

            The Declaration of Independence is more than just a piece of paper signed by men.  It is a symbol of our country’s independence and commitment to certain ideas. The people who signed the Declaration of Independence could have been hung for treason by the leaders in Great Britain.

The Constitution was written in 1787 and amended in 1791 to include the Bill of Rights. Some of the items in this were adopted from the English Bill of Rights.

So every July 4^th we should think about all the effort and ideas that went into the writing of these documents and about the courage it took for these signers to stand up for what they knew was right – Independence.

How many of us appreciate the freedoms we enjoy because of what these men risked their lives for so many years ago?

As I just recently drove over to Jackson, Wyoming, I thought of countries where travel is restricted. Going across the state line into Wyoming, there wasn’t a gate or a guard checking my credentials, making sure it was legal for me to cross that border. Not all countries have that kind of freedom. WE DO!

When I read the letters to the editor in the newspaper, I realize how blessed we are to be able to publically voice our opinions, even criticize our government officials, without the fear of being severely punished, even executed. Not all countries have that kind of freedom. WE DO!

I don’t always agree with our elected officials, but I appreciate the fact that I have the freedom to vote for whichever ones I feel will do the best job. Because I take that opportunity to vote, I feel free to voice my opinion on how those elected are doing their jobs. Not all countries give their people the opportunity to vote. WE DO!

I have the freedom to worship as I choose. I have the right to bear arms, I the right to a fair trial with a jury when accused of a crime. Not all countries have those privileges and freedoms. But WE DO!

Let’s all of us take time, not just on July 4^th but every day, to appreciate what this wonderful country has to offer us. Maybe we should quit complaining so much and become more involved in order for us to maintain our freedoms and independence.

WRITING HISTORY OF OUR LAND

                                              Published in Intermountain Farm and Ranch on
                                                               Friday, June 24, 2011

This is the time of year for family reunions. We sometimes enjoy these, sometimes not. But they are important. It is a time to reunite, thus the word reunion. Many times family members are only seen once a year – at reunions or maybe at funerals. As we get older these times mean more to us. We start thinking of histories, where we came from and where we are going. What are we leaving our children in terms of their historical background? Do our children know where their grandparents came from, do they know what occupations their aunts and uncles have, do they even know their cousins?  So I would like to address the idea of writing histories.

            Writing history can be fun. The more one researches, the more one learns and the more one wants to learn. The first thing in writing a history is to determine what type of history to write. One area I have found interesting is the history of the land. What makes this type of history so interesting is that as farmers most of us refer to the fields we farm with the name of the original owner. At the ranch we have the “Anderson” place, the “Doman” place, the “Rushton” place, “Cal’s and Eli’s”, etc. With some research, it is often possible to find some descendents of those people. Most are willing to share life histories of their parents and grandparents. When you get that information you have a treasure as the land starts to reveal its secrets to you! These histories will contain information about droughts, price of products grown, illnesses, celebrations, and many other things the people recorded.  Let me quote a couple of things from my book, Dehlin, A Forgotten Community:

Joseph Olsen wrote: “I filed a squatter’s right on land across Willow Creek, what is known as Dehlin or Horse Butte. Later we filed a homestead on 240 akers.”[original spelling]” (Dehlin, p 13)

“The Thomas Joseph Pearce told how, during the years of the depression, the people struggled to make a living. Prices hit rock bottom. The price of wheat was down to twenty cents a bushel. It became difficult to make it on the dry farm. Gradually more and more of the Dehlin dry farmers moved to the valley to try to find employment elsewhere.” (Dehlin, p 109)

            This type of information makes history come alive, helps us understand what our ancestors went through, and why they sometimes lost their land and moved on.

These early homesteaders were not rich. With the use of a metal detector we have found old farm equipment, a bent tea kettle, parts to stoves, a bed frame, a saw, and many nails, bolts, and pieces of harnesses. That in itself is history. 

We have also located the foundations to many of the homes. There are a couple of the old homes still standing, one is about ready to fall down and probably isn’t safe to go into anymore. But they tell a story about the lives lived in them.

The Bureau of Land Management has a website that enables you find the names of homesteaders. You need the legal description of the land you are interested in, or just the name of the person you think homesteaded your land, and this website will do the search for you. The web site is:  http://www.glorecords.blm.gov/ . 

This is an exciting website! Not only can you get the information on who homesteaded certain pieces of land, but you can print a copy of the homestead papers.

            A quote I have in my files, but I’m not sure where I got it from, says it all: “family history is not just delving into your past, but it is preserving your future.” What better gift to give our children than a sense of belonging, a sense of importance because of where they came from! And what fun to have the history of the land we farm!

FAMILY TOGETHERNESS

Published in Intermountain Farm and Ranch June 10, 2011

About a year ago, the women’s auxiliary organization in our church challenged all women to have their family sit down together for five meals a week. We received that directive on a Sunday. Well, by noon on Tuesday I had fulfilled that goal for the first week. I wondered if now I could quit cooking for the rest of the week.

This did make me stop and appreciate the advantages of living  on the farm/ranch. Yes there’s a lot of cooking, but the family does sit down together for meals, and not just five meals a week. There are also other advantages of this life.

We lived at the ranch during the summer when the kids were all at home. As soon as school was out in the spring we would move up. We would come down to the valley on weekends and attend church, buy groceries, and then head back up Monday mornings.

Many mornings, after chores were done, I would pack them a lunch and the kids would take off exploring. The old Cutler house was a fun place to go, or up to the foundation of the old school house, maybe to one of the groves of trees near by. They would usually arrive back to the ranch house in time for dinner, our noon meal. They liked to take their bikes and ride over to Hell Creek. Once a summer on a Saturday morning, I would pack a lunch and the older ones would ride their bikes from the ranch to our valley home. This was approximately twenty miles which took them most of the day on a bike.  

Every afternoon about 3 or 4 o’clock, I would get the kids in the car and we would go out to the field to take their dad a treat. Then we would head to Hell Creek where the rest of the afternoon was spent swimming. The water wasn’t deep nor the current swift, but it was water and a chance to play in it. Home again and they would play their games, sometimes Anti-Eye-Over ( or Anti Over), or play on the old equipment. We had an old combine that they especially liked to play “Love Boat” on. There always seemed to be something to do!

We didn’t have a TV as there was no electricity. We did have a battery powered radio which was turned on every morning to get the news, and Boyd listened to ball games in the evening on it.

For quite a few summers we had “Red” the hired man. He was an older man that Dad Schwieder would hire in the early spring to help get the ground ready and he usually stayed through the fall harvest. We only have two bedrooms in the house and “Red” had to sleep in the back bedroom with the kids. He didn’t like that and would get grouchy with the kids if they were too noisy. I don’t think “Red” liked me up there. He wanted to do his own cooking. I never spiced things enough for him. When I would serve a meal he would put so much pepper on his food that you couldn’t tell that he was eating anything but pepper. But he and I tolerated each other as best we could. In fact, we integrated him into our “family” as best we could. I think he was always glad to see us depart for the valley on Saturday afternoons.

The first day of school would see us settled again in our valley home. Now as the kids are grown and some of them have moved away and have their own families, they often talk about the memories they had of those days at the ranch.

Even though the kids have moved away, the cooking is still being done for those family members that help on the farm. And more than five times a week we sit down as a family and eat together.