We don’t live on a farm. The last link to the farm for our immediate family belongs to Jim’s sister, Maureen, and her husband, Harvey. They plant corn and soybeans and raise cattle. They used to have pigs, as well, but gave up on that quite a few years ago already. Diversified operation. Recently, I’ve come to appreciate them and the connection much more. Prior to this appreciation, it was taken for granted.
Dedicated to the many farming and harvesting families who come together the only way they can during harvest.
It’s the same thing every year – as long as I remember…”when will you be heading south”? I’ve jokingly said we need to create two signs. The first one we should either wear or carry around says, “I don’t know for sure” and the other one “it wasn’t a vacation”.
Preparations for harvest 2015 have begun. Slow but sure. Jim has never been lucky enough to have a nice shed to work in. He is at the mercy of the weather. If it’s raining, the outside work is put on hold and something else picked up until the sun is shining. As you can tell from the picture, we’ve had a few good days.
Proverbs 6:16-19
There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.
We live in a world where answers to questions are found quickly and conveniently at our fingertips. If you’re ever wondering about something or have questions about something…Google it. I’ve been unknowingly playing a game that I’m not familiar with. I’ve probably been subjected to it many times throughout my life but haven’t been aware until recently there is a name to this game. It’s called bullying.
The personality of a bully is one that I don’t understand. Their game is one that my brain can’t seem to wrap itself around let alone know how to play because I don’t know the rules. You see, I don’t understand why or how someone can purposely hurt another. Why it feels so good to tear someone down or make them look like someone they’re not. I don’t understand a mind that wants to make themselves look bigger and more powerful at the expense of others. I don’t understand the mind of a bully.
This was in the March 24, 2015 Omaha World-Herald.
“I think you made the paper today…is this you?” – Jenn (texted to me at 8:30 a.m. Tuesday morning)
“Yes!”, I responded to my cousin’s question. “This is in today’s paper??”
“Yep! Living Section page 5E”, was her reply.
Before I begin, I want to add a disclaimer to the pictures I’m using. Although this is about GMO foods, I don’t have many pictures of fall harvest (corn & soybeans) so most involve wheat. There is no GMO wheat in our food system.
The 2014 midterm elections are now history. Thank goodness! I am so glad my landline phone is now quiet again and the signs that cluttered up the landscape have been removed…until next time.
I can’t believe it’s been 13 years.
In March, the Z Crew made a trip to New York City. And, of course, the one place we all agreed to visit was the 9/11 Memorial. So, today takes on a whole different feel after actually standing on the same ground where so many died. Being in the city and seeing for myself how it is laid out helped me to understand how chaotic it must have been. But really…how could I know? I wasn’t there.
This was the first time I had ever been in New York so the skyline of the past wasn’t being missed. I didn’t know any different.
Just as there is a generation who don’t know what our world and our country was like prior to 9/11. They don’t know any different.
I was going to post pictures of our first day of the three we spent in the mountains but something else felt like it needed to be shared.
This morning, I woke up to the news that Kate Middleton was pregnant again. About an hour later, Jamie texted me, “Kate Middleton is having another baby. Parallel lives.”
I loved Princess Diana. I think that weird sort of love for her and her life was because she and I were so close in age. I always thought it was sort of “cool” to think about how similar we were and yet so very, very different. She was a Princess, for crying out loud! We continued our parallel lives with our weddings and babies (my two older girls). I was devastated when I learned of her death on Sunday, August 31, 1997. The girls and I were sitting in the little Lutheran Church in Jordan when it was announced. I remember the immediate sick feeling I felt in the pit of my stomach. How could this be? I felt like I had lost a good friend.
Years later, the parallel lives continue with Jamie and Prince William. Married the same month/same year (April 2011), 1st baby within months of each other (2013) and now pregnancy #2 at the same time. Parallel lives.
Poor Kate! I feel so sorry for her – for anyone who is so sick with their pregnancy that it feels like it would be easier to die. I know.
I find it rather ironic that we’re being told of the seriousness of today’s weather. Ironic because it was 34 years ago today – on a Tuesday – that changed my Grandparent’s lives forever.
I remember Grandma talking about this home when it was brand new. I don’t know what year it was built but it was outside of the Grand Island city limits. The house still stands at 2204 South Locust in Grand Island, NE. But on the night of June 3, 1980, all future memories in that house came to a complete halt.
I was going back through some letters I wrote as president of the U.S. Custom Harvesters recently and came upon one that could have been written today. It was written in the Spring of 2011. Why is this worth mentioning? It was about the impending disaster the custom harvesting industry was being faced with. The letter was written to the major combine and forage manufacturers asking for an extended grace period when it came time for equipment payments. I don’t remember if there was anything accomplished with that letter but it was a “heads up” to them anyway. By the time the harvest season was over, it appeared that most custom harvesters were able to hold on, sigh a heavy sigh and mutter, “there’s always next year”.
That was three summers ago.