Hibernatic July on the Farm

If June was nomadic, July is hibernatic. I rarely leave a 20 mile radius of the farm- and when I do, it's only to get provisions.

I don't know the proper word to describe life on the farm. Interesting, I guess. No- a more accurate phrase is: The way life is lived on the farm is very interesting.

The days are long; by 7 am, Dad laces up his boots for a 12 hour day. My parents are getting older, though. Those 12 hours include at least one nap at some point.

Holidays are spent at home, and if we do venture off the farm, it's to a nearby American Legion or small-town bar for supper (maybe even a drink).

But just because we don't get excited about special days doesn't mean we don't get excited. At any instant, the phone can ring. A neighbor, with bad news- "Your cows are out!"

Within minutes, we hop into the truck and speed down the road. More than once I've thought of the ramifications of someone hitting one of our livestock- injuries, possible death- a lawsuit, for sure.

But perhaps more dangerous than loose cows on the farm are fires. The 4th of July, the phone rang- within 30 seconds, I had my shoes on and the car started, while Mom ran to get the fire extinguishers. The contraption that bails hay into round stacks was producing smoke, presenting the potential for fire. (No actual fire, luckily).

Another phenomenon: we pick rock. I can't believe how many people don't know what this means- even people who grew up in towns and cities in more rural areas. This act is comparable to a seasoned shopper in a high-end store. She does not waste her time, but she selects her items carefully, very sure of what she wants. She can tell what items are treasures.

The farmer has a similar trained eye- he can spot a rock from 16 rows of corn away, (sometimes more). He takes one look, and heads back to the tractor for a shovel. That rock is like an iceberg, with a majority of its' mass underground.

Life on the farm seems so different now, after returning from 6 years in the "city" (if you can use that word to describe Vermillion). I may not always love it, but it's home.