Christmas music is on the radio, there’s snow on the ground and it’s probably here to stay. Winter has arrived in Eastern Nebraska.
It’s been two weeks that I made the final lap in the corn field – November 19, to be exact. Seems much longer than that, honestly. Fall harvest felt like it was about a year long. We had so much weather to deal with…just like so many others.
Yes, we have started fall harvest. Up to today, though, Jim guessed only about 5% of the crop has been harvested in our area.
It was two weeks ago today that I crawled off the combine (I’ve been hired to drive a New Holland combine for a neighbor). I haven’t been back since. I was just sort of feeling like I was getting it. I’ve never picked corn or cut soybeans. Ever! I may have crawled in the seat for a little while way back when to help Jim while he got a truck moved or something. But to say I’ve had experience with corn or soybeans? Nope!
Picking corn is a whole different animal than cutting wheat. You have to line the combine up with rows, know how the field was planted with terraces and watch to make sure you’re on the right row. It’s not mindless cutting like wheat is. There’s not much forgiveness. If you’re off a row, the entire plan is off. And…I’m TRYING to do a good job for the farmer that hired me. The expectations I have on myself are great.
We had an amazing amount of time off due to rain (3+”) and SNOW ( 4″). Jim got back in the field today. I will be back tomorrow afternoon. The entire central part of the United States has been unable to harvest due to the amount of wet stuff we’ve had. With the cooler temps, it takes a whole lot more time to dry the grain and the ground than when we have rain delays in the summer.
So…what have I been up to the last two weeks, you ask? Even if you really don’t care, I’m about to fill you in. Continue reading
One week ago yesterday, we began the final journey home.
Our first trip – Pete/the “job” trailer and Frank/the header trailer – began two weeks ago today.
So, within the past two weeks, we’ve traveled nearly 3,000 miles getting equipment moved back home. The same road gets a bit weary and I often think about the over-the-road truckers and how monotonous their days must get.
Once the final turn is made and the trucks are shut off, the reality of what’s next sets in. And it doesn’t take long for the harvest mode mentality to disappear. In fact, it all feels like a dream now. A bit of a post-harvest “hangover” or depression sets in. I can’t explain why it happens or even why it does what it does but unless I get busy right away, it can feel pretty rough.
As most who know or have been part of a harvest…things have a tendency to change.
And, that’s just what happened on the very first day of our bonus acres here in Jordan. We were hired to cut approximately 300 acres. The farmer had his own machine and just needed a little help. Just enough to take the edge off what was ahead of them. It’s beginning to get late in the season and the help would give them a boost and it would help us. A win, win situation!
The first day of our bonus acres. Jim and Denim making a “plan” before we got the day started.
Looks like an awful lot of wheat. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!
Thanks for the picture, Robin!
There she is! Robin in her machine just doing what needed to be done…until the fire.
And it all began just as planned – until the fire.
I’ve never witnessed a fire starting in a field…ever. Robin and I had been working on opposite ends of the field just to stay out of each other’s way. We’d sometimes make it to the truck about the same time and give each other a wave and a smile. The piece I was working on curved and turned and ended up right behind her. As she turned the corner, I THOUGHT I saw flames dancing in the field behind her. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?
My brain told me, “Surely not, or she would have stopped.”
But she didn’t stop. And the closer I got, sure as heck…we had a fire. And not only one, but two. It was late enough in the day the portable two-ways we were using were beginning to lose battery. I quickly grabbed mine and pushed the button, “Robin, if you can hear me, we’ve got fire. I’m right behind you and I see flames”.
What happened next seemed like it happened in slow motion. My first thought was, maybe it will burn itself out. It wasn’t. I could see the spots were growing fairly quickly. The next thought was, I could run over it with the combine – BAD THOUGHT. I didn’t do that. I wasn’t going to risk our livelihood. And then I thought…the fire extinguisher! I didn’t even know if I could figure out how to make it work but I shut the machine down, opened the door, flew down the steps and yanked it off the ladder. I sat it on the ground, pulled the pin and sprayed water on the flames.
One of two burn areas.
After I got the first one saturated with water, I ran (and I don’t run) to the second spot. Robin was using what little water she had left in her gallon jug on the flames and then started throwing dirt (hoping to choke the flames). I had just enough water left in the extinguisher to help put out what flames were still struggling to eat away at the straw. She says she was panicked. I didn’t see that in her demeanor or her face. As a matter of fact, I thought she seemed very, very calm. I was the one running around like crazy thinking the whole field was going up in smoke.
We had the fires out as Jim pulled up to the scene in the pickup. We all went to the combine to see if we could find what it was that was throwing fire balls. We found the problem right away as it was still smoldering. A bearing went out and was causing the collected chaff and dust to ignite. As the belt was spinning, it was shooting fireballs to the ground.
Jim went after more water to put on the combine and I got back in the Beast and started cutting again. There wasn’t anything more I could do. Whew! That was enough excitement for me for a while!
The green machine would sit still the rest of the day and most of the next. When Denim returned the next day with the new part, he realized there was more wrong with the machine than he realized – way more wrong. To the point of not being usable unless he wanted to put lots of dollars into it. At the end of the second day of his harvest, he had a decision to make – either rent another machine or have us cut the entire crop.
Robin’s “wounded” machine.
I knew the next day would be our last if he chose to rent a machine. And I was okay with whatever he decided to do. But, I was secretly hoping we could cut the rest. I just wasn’t ready to walk away knowing there was wheat to cut. I know…it’s a sickness.
We were nearly finished with day three when we got the word to keep cutting.
Replacing the fire extinguisher the next morning.
Replacing the pin – hoping I never have to remove it again.
Morning service routine.
A little extra blowing this morning.
Pictures just don’t do it justice. Love, love, love this country!
Most people want to cut mile-long strips that are as flat as flat can be. Not me. I enjoy the challenge of the fields here! It makes for a more interesting day. The turns and curves and always sitting on the edge of the seat hoping to see a rock before it’s too late. Weird, right? The countryside is so very beautiful! How could you NOT enjoy cutting wheat up here?
This young bull was not happy that I had to make him move out of the road. He moved very slowly and then stood in the ditch and “bellered” at me as I drove past him.
Sunday evening. Haven’t been back since.
I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it! I was told it is a 1949 Studebaker grain truck. There’s just something about it that tugs at my heart.
The weather forecast showed 100% chance of rain on Monday (August 27). Yeah, right. 100% chance of rain for Jordan, Montana? We’ll believe it when we see it.
We saw it. It began raining early in the morning and continued all the rest of the day. In one of my earlier posts on the All Aboard Harvest blog, I mentioned how the residents of this lovely country catch rain in tubs and barrels to use for watering flowers and plants. You should have seen me catching rain from the roof of the Cottage. I was harvesting my own rain water! I ended up filling buckets and gallon jugs for future needs. Probably even more than I will need before heading home with my mobile flower garden.
My traveling garden.
We had one inch that day. A wonderful drink for a very thirsty land.
So, we’ve had a few days to catch up on what needed to be caught up on. Some necessary visiting took place – which required several pots of coffee. A trip to Miles City to get everything needed to change oil in everything just prior to making the long trip home (and a good meal). And more visiting with friends camped in Circle.
Rain day = coffee with Tom.
This catches you up to today. The sun is shining more brightly than it has in several weeks. The rain must have cleaned the sky of all the smoke that has been a temporary/permanent part of our days. The sunsets haven’t even been as pretty as they could be because of the smoke from the wildfires. The sky is blue and there is some good heat. We’re going to head out to the field after lunch and see where we’re at. We have about 4-5 days ahead of us before we begin the clean-up and move home, home.
According to the weather forecast, this is the last day of 80’s for the next two weeks. The days are getting shorter, the “fireplace” is being used more than the air conditioner and the end is nearing – of summer and the 2018 wheat harvest. Personally, I dislike fall because it means winter is just around the corner. I am one who will be waiting with great anticipation of spring!
If Jim has his sweatshirt on AND the hood up, you know it’s pretty chilly!
I don’t remember the exact day it happened.
Twenty-two years ago my world came crashing down – for the third time – while in Jordan, Montana.
While we were cutting wheat near Hutchinson, Kansas, I found out we were expecting baby number four. I hadn’t been feeling quite right and suspected that maybe I was pregnant. Maybe. But I wasn’t sick like I had been with the other three. I mean really sick. Sick like hyperemesis sick. Like not being able to quit puking sick.
So I visited the local clinic to be checked out.
“Could you be pregnant?”, they asked. I said, “I guess it’s a possibility.”
I was told to call the clinic back later that day and they would give me the result. Positive. Now…how in the world am I going to tell Jim I’m pregnant? Guess just tell him. 🙂
I never did get as sick as I had been with the others. Maybe that should have been my first clue? I was so excited about my growing belly and the fact that I could continue to take care of my family and “crew” (all of one additional guy) without having to feel like I was going to die.
It’s been long enough ago I’ve forgotten all the details. But what I will never forget is what I was doing the very instant I knew something was wrong. I was attempting to lift a five gallon water jug in the trailer house. We have to buy our water while we’re in Jordan. You don’t want to drink this extra salty, mineral-filled water.
It was a sickening, numbing feeling that instantly hit me. I thought…maybe if I just stop what I’m doing and sit down or lay down it will all go away. I still think about this particular day every time I lift one of those blue five gallon water jugs.
I called Dan the local PA. He told me to come to the clinic immediately and then sent me to Miles City for an ultrasound. I could tell by the look on the face of the gal doing the test that something wasn’t right. But she couldn’t say anything. The doctor confirmed the worst. There was no heartbeat. I immediately felt like I was going to be sick.
It wasn’t immediate but I eventually went into “labor”. I was 13 weeks along. Dan took care of me the entire time I was in the Jordan hospital. Things were different then. And I often think about the baby I lost that year – especially when we pull back into town. I remember feeling like I would never be the same. I would never be able to get over what had just happened. I remember walking the streets of the town late at night trying to understand why this had to happen. Especially so far away from home.
The people of this community were amazing! Dan came to our trailer house several times to check on me. Where else does the doctor make a “house visit” anymore? Or call to see how things are going? People brought food for our little harvest crew until I could get back on my feet. I was blessed to have had this happen where it did. I just didn’t know it at the time.
I find myself thinking about this more so today because of the premature birth of a dear friend’s baby. I had prayed for a miracle for her. She was only 20 weeks pregnant. But there was hope through others who shared their stories of delivering babies this young and they survived. Unfortunately, Henry wasn’t going to grow up here on earth. God had other plans for him. So, as I think about Emma and the emotions she’s going through tonight, it made me think about my own loss. I had two other miscarriages before the last one in Jordan. Each one never easier than the previous one.
I used to remember the due dates. I don’t anymore. All I can remember is that there were three – two between Jenna and Taylor and one between Taylor and Callie. I used to notice pregnant women more than usual. I don’t anymore. I used to wonder if they were boys or girls. I know that one day I will be reunited with them in heaven. They will be waiting for me to arrive and then I will be able to hold them in my arms.
I’ve told Taylor and Callie they must have very important purposes on this earth. If I had carried those babies to term, I would not have had either Taylor or Callie. And, I can’t imagine life without either one of them.
You see, I believe God has a plan for each one of us. And sometimes that plan includes the death of a baby. Doesn’t seem right at all. How could a loving God allow such a thing? He knows. He has the plan, not us. How can we question what He knows? So much doesn’t make sense, but I fully believe that one day it will.
All of this leads up to my final thought. Why do we women feel it so necessary to keep a miscarriage or the loss of a baby quiet? Why is it so important that we don’t tell anyone we’re pregnant until we’re in the second trimester? I understand everyone thinks differently. However, due to the losses I experienced, it would have been much easier to have gone through it with the help of others.
I didn’t tell anyone.
I didn’t think I was supposed to. Was it because I thought others would look at me with questions? Was it taboo to let others know that you were pregnant and now you’re not? I don’t know. I’ve thought about it all so much over the years. When I went through the heartache of miscarriage, there was nothing about it anywhere. Nothing to help the grieving mom and dad understand why it happened. I was so hungry for information to learn about the reason why. There was no google or internet to refer to.
Was it something I did? Was there something wrong with me? Why did I miscarry these babies? What caused this to happen? So many unanswered questions.
If I could give a bit of advice, it would be this…don’t deny yourself the love and care of others. The time you could use support, prayers, sympathy and care is during the moment of loss. Let the world know you’re pregnant right away. If the pregnancy ends with a miscarriage or the death of your baby, you will have the love and support of people who can help carry you through the difficult times. By keeping your pregnancy a secret, you also keep the pain of a loss a secret. That’s so very difficult to get through on your own. Believe me, I know. Being able to talk to someone – anyone – who would listen and would allow me to talk was the best therapy I had.
If you know of someone who is having to go through the loss of a baby, please don’t be afraid to ask them about it. They need you. They need to know you will listen and try to understand. The pain of losing their baby is no different than dealing with the death of any loved one. It hurts and it takes an awful lot of time to work through the pain. Be there for them – in any way you can.
Time does lessen the pain but the heartache never really goes away – even after 22 years.
Picture credit – David Luebcke
The stress level on Father’s Day gradually diminished with each day we were able to be in the field. The weirdness of the changes in the combine began to take on a comfortable feeling…one that felt good. It felt like things were falling back into a “normal” sort of state for harvest. For me. Jim, on the other hand, was (and still is) struggling with the changes to the hydro joystick. It is different but just like anything else, once you take it on and use it as it’s intended, it begins to feel more and more comfortable.
The first field we cut in 2018.
Our goodbye picture. These little guys will sure change by the time we see them again.
A lot has happened since the last post on here. We went from unknown..to work. For a catch up on what the heck has happened, be sure to visit the All Aboard Wheat Harvest site. I don’t seem to get two blogs written very easily so it’s either one or the other. Just check both. 🙂
Today was Father’s Day.
We made it to Lyons, Kansas yesterday. It seemed like it took forever to gather up all the loose ends and get out the driveway. It was funny, though, how both Jim and I sort of finished up our gathering about the same time. The final item on my list was crossed off just about the same time Jim asked me if I was getting close. It was noon. And it was hot, humid and very hot! We stopped in Plymouth for fuel in my pickup and a bite to eat and then we never stopped again until we reached the farmyard. This was about 8:30 pm.
We quickly parked the Pete and The Beast, gathered up a few items and headed for Lyons to get the trailer house parked. The spot we had picked over a week ago had been taken – even though Jim called a couple of times to reassure the fact that we would have the space. But, no big deal. There was still room, just not under the tree. 🙂
We set up camp and decided we better see if there was a grocery store open. No such luck. But the Dollar General was. So, I ran in while Jim was on the phone and picked up a couple of necessary items – like water, bread and lunchmeat.
Today was Father’s Day.
I kept forgetting today was a special day. Grant (from Kiowa County Media Center) and I had been texting each other before we ever left home. He needed to meet up with us before we got the combine rolling in the wheat to install the HPJ Combine Cam equipment in the cab. The previous setup (what we were all used to) couldn’t work because the cab was all different. Nothing was the same as what we had all been used to. Some people relish in change and upgrades and some do not. I believe Jim and I are probably a few of the ones who do not. What we had before worked and was working just fine (sign of getting old?) so why change? One of the last texts I received from Grant last night was wondering what time he should be to the farmyard. Jim’s reply was the earlier the better. They decided on 8:00 because Grant reminded us that it was, in fact, Father’s Day and he wanted to be able to spend some of the day with his family. CRAP! I had forgotten (and then felt bad).
Grant was at the yard well before 8:00. I’m pretty sure he had it installed within an hour or so and was back on the road, making the two-hour drive back to Greensburg.
All day, he and I played tag with texts trying to get the crazy thing going before it went live. I would be ready to do something and then he had to be away for a while. And then he would be ready to try something and I had to take the truck to town. Seemed like it went back and forth like this all day. Until Jim finally went after the Pete. Then I had a little more time. And we finally did get it set up and ready to go.
These are the sort of screen shots I would send to Grant and he would tell me what step to take next. 🙂
Today was Father’s Day.
The girls each took the time to call their dad – or text him. But he had no time. He was too busy attempting to get everything in the field and doing the job we were here to do. Had they been here with us, they would have been back at camp preparing a nice meal and making special goodies to bring him to the field. That’s how it used to be. But things change and it’s not like it used to be. Each one called and received the same sort of response…”I’m just too busy to talk right now.” But he was thankful they took the time but I know he would have rather had them here.
The stress of this business seems to have really played into how he was feeling today. He really hasn’t been the same since his road trip to Texas, Kansas and Colorado well over a month ago. I have seen him age because of it. It breaks my heart to see him struggle with trying to figure so many things out. Trying to do the job we started doing together 36 years ago. And even I begin to wonder if it’s worth it. And the idea of walking away from everything we both loved about this industry begins to creep into our souls.
Today was Father’s Day.
We had a crazy, stressful day. The first day now feels like it was a month-long. We lost the key to the shop trailer. The header wouldn’t go on the new machine quite as easily as the previous machine. Frank had a few things in the box that needed to be unloaded. Multiple trips were made from one place to another in the heat of the day. The combine had a minor issue (it fixed itself). And there were combines running all around us. We should have been here a couple of days earlier. But who would have known? The wheat ripened extra fast after we were here the first time. (Lots of 100 degree days and strong south winds did that.) About four days sooner than we had planned. And the stress could be seen in Jim’s eyes. I tried to do all I could but the mind can sometimes just make everything worse when you focus on all that has to be done. It’s overwhelming and you just want to walk away.
But we didn’t. We kept pushing and moving and doing and pretty soon, we were starting to get into a groove. Things were starting to feel “normal” again.
I really do feel sorry for those who have never experienced the sweet smell of wheat coming out from the back of a truck!
Today was Father’s Day.
As I took the last load of the day to the elevator, I got really emotional. This way of life has been what I’ve known – what we’ve known. I looked at the lights of the combines, trucks and grain carts as I made my way to town and my heart swelled with love for what we do. What we GET to do. The coolness of the evening took me back to the days of being a young girl on harvest. The sweet smell of the cut wheat brought back a memory that involved young kids and babies and hauling meals and chasing parts and being a part of a team. Pulling into the elevator at the end of a long, stress-filled day gave me a sense of a job well done.
We made it through the first day!
As I thought about all these memories and smells and sights, I felt like I really needed to try to soak it all up. But I just don’t know how to effectively do that. I know we’re getting older with each harvest that we meet head-on. I know our days are probably limited to getting to experience what harvest is all about and this saddens me. This is something I never thought about before. Not when we had so many years ahead of us.
Today was Father’s Day.
I didn’t get my Dad called because we were so busy. But I know he knows that. He knows what being on harvest and doing this job is all about. And I know he will forgive me. Because he knows that not everyone can take a day off work to celebrate – he’s lived it. I’ll just call him another day and wish him a late Happy Father’s Day. But…I’ll also tell him now. Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
My Dad.
The yellow rose is blooming.
The rose-ometer is telling us it’s time to be heading south. Wishing we were joining those fortunate enough to have something to head there for!
In past years, this was the indicator that it was time to be packing the trailer house, getting equipment loaded and heading south.
While looking for some pictures recently, I came across a gem of a throwback dated July 13, 1977. Marge Bale of the Sidney (Nebraska) Telegraph visited our camp while we were cutting wheat in the Lodgepole area to gather her “story”. I thought it would be a good treasure to keep on this blog and to share with you. My goodness…I see quite a few things have changed since then!
Tecumseh, Nebraska store fronts around the town square.
So, it seems I’ve been to more small towns in Nebraska the last several days than usual. From one end of the state to the other. East to west and back east again. I’ve seen thriving communities and some that are basically dying – if not dead.
And hidden gems.