I am a farmer's wife.

I am a farmer’s wife.

I am a farmer’s wife.  The reality of those words doesn’t sink in as deeply until the first “busy” season of spring comes rolling in.  Or, in our case, I should say rolling out on the wheels of the tractor and planter.  I think there can be many misconceptions of what the life of a “farmer” consists of, so my account of it is just what OUR life as a farming family means.  Jake hates when I call him and his dad farmers.  He looks at it more in the sense of being an “entrepreneur,” and running their own business.

 

I grew up with a dad as a farmer, and we were always part of the yearly crops and livestock with my dad.  My dad was blessed with so much patience for his four girls.  I asked him recently if he was sad that he didn’t have a boy to pass his heritage and ground on to…he quickly said, no, he wasn’t, but he used to think that he needed a boy.  As the years went by, he taught my sisters and I how to do everything that boys would have done for him.  He quickly learned that girls have very soft hearts, and raising your voice might cause some tears to fall.  I loved my life at home.  I look back on my childhood and smile, both with love for my home, and respect for the parents who shaped me into who I am today.

As much as I loved my childhood, I rushed to grow up, and to become a farmer’s wife.  (That sure sounds good, doesn’t it?)  The pace of things around here with Jake and his dad is much quicker than I imagined.  I was terrified to help…but quickly overcame my fears.  Jake learned not to raise his voice with me, and I gained more love and respect for his family operation than I had ever dreamed.

After spending almost a decade with Jake, I've learned a few things.

When it rains…it doesn’t mean that we will spend the day rejoicing and dancing in the rain.  It simply means that day will consist of shop and mechanic work…and that it might be a late night because the lights in the shop are SO bright that they have no recollection of what time of day it is. (ever heard of a cell phone?)

Harvest time…it’s not about bringing hot meals to the field and everyone sitting down together.  It’s all about working from in the morning to midnight.  Every. Single. Day.  You never know when that rain or hail might come.  Jake used to not even STOP the combine for me to jump in and ride with him.  Now that the girls are here, he finally does. J

Planting/Drilling season…means that I better have loaves upon loaves of bread and lunch meat ready, because no meals will be shared with our beloved husband and dad.  We pray for rain, rain to bring up those precious seeds, and rain for a chance for Jake to sleep a full night, and to spend time at home.

And all that time in between…is devoted to spraying, raking, baling, hauling in bales, fixing fence for the cattle, getting the cattle in that are tearing through the neighbors pasture, and last but not least, building the girls’ jungle gym!

Crops grown counties away mean that my husband can spend a week at a time out of town.  Picture sun up to sun down, out in the country with two little kids…makes for some pretty long days.  It definitely comforts me to know that my husband is always working when he is away, and working his hardest to get home to us.

It sounds glorious, being a farmer’s wife.  Only those that live it, understand it.  Some days it proves to push my heart to the limit.   But, I would not have it any other way.  There is something heart warming about watching crops grow and be harvested, seeing the cattle graze the grass around your house, and to share this life and legacy with our kids.  Seeing our girls’ smiling face as they climb into machinery with their dad, ride in the feed truck, or simply just run free in a wheat field…now that is a glorious.