Laura Unearthed

Image courtesy of nuttakit at FreeDigitalPhotos.net The summer after my eighth grade year, my brother was preparing for his senior year.  One morning, he was headed off to help with an FFA contest, but a couple of people had just canceled, leaving the opportunity for me to fill their spots.  However, I was easily intimidated by the older kids.  I was still debating as he headed out the door, and said, “You can choose to be involved, or you can choose to not be involved.”   His words resonated with me, I hopped in the passenger side of his truck and had a great day. Today, our society seems to be on overdrive with activities.  Networking, serving, socializing, and honing skills are all very important to me.  Many times we say we can’t, when really we could, and we would better ourselves or others richly.  But other times...you just can’t. One of my unofficial personal mantras is “take advantage of all opportunities.”  However, hubby and I just decided to let an opportu

Harvest is growing long these days. It’s been a good harvest.   However, there’s nothing more disheartening than watching the yield monitor register some of the best corn you’ve ever had, only to suddenly drop by 100 or more bushels an acre. If corn is selling for approximately $4 per bushel, simple math tells us that equates to $400 an acre.   What’s causing this loss? Wet holes. The flat creek bottom where we’ve raised our best corn is littered with low spots where water collects.   Even though we know corn needs water to thrive, too much, in this case, water pooled in low lying areas, stunted our corn yield by over half.   The areas with lighter colored corn are in wet spots.  Corn standing in water or wetter soil is stunted in growth because the water fills the spaces in the soil, and the roots cannot receive oxygen.  This severely limits yields at the end of the season. Plus, the water runs off the field haphazardly causing eroded spots as it races to the c

Hey old friend, I miss you.   Remember the days in grade school when we made clover “jewelry” and “crowns”, played four-square, and begged our parents for sleep-overs?   Or when we spent hours outside of class making that video for our English class project?   Those were the days. Or maybe you’re my acquaintance.   My friend of a friend: maybe we were in a wedding together and shared a great time on the dance floor.   Maybe we shared one college class and really hit it off, but haven’t talked much since then. I see you on Facebook, now and then.   Enjoying a fall coffee or beautiful sunset.   Or… blowing off steam about the latest divisive issue. Transgender, abortion, which lives matter, the range of sexuality, gun control, common core, entitlement programs, presidential candidates… …and let’s not leave out: GMO, organic, animal welfare, factory farms, grass-fed, eat local, the environment. Do you want to know what gets under my skin the most across these t

In these parts, we’re currently experiencing the regional holiday known as: fair time.   It really might be better than Christmas because we see all of the people we care about and eat great food that we don’t have to cook.  Loving on her cousins' show cattle... just like her big cousin did with mine when she was little. :) This week is the lull between our district fair and the county fair to our north.   I could write pages about all of aspects I’ve looooooved about these fairs over the years: cool fall mornings, steam rolling off of a heifer’s back at the wash rack, hanging out with your “family” all week.   Although, I’m not sure if I could put into words the joy of watching my sweet daughters begin to fall in love the same traditions.   Which is good because that’s not what this post is about… My farmer and I both enjoyed several years as livestock exhibitors.   We love chatting about sharing this tradition with our daughters when they are old enough.   As much

It happened.   Harvest began.   I dreaded it… and, at the same time, I’m more excited than ever as I get to watch it through my daughter’s eyes, this year.   Apparently, Monday was National Eat a Hoagie Day.   According to the radio station I was listening to on my way home (completely credible source, I’m sure), there were industrial workers on Hog Island in Italy. They worked long days and packed huge sandwiches for lunch, aka: the hoggie… or over time: the hoagie.   How appropriate for the BBQ hoagie-style lunch I made my  hoggie hubby on Monday.   (I packed him the equivalent of half a roast and a loaf of French bread.  No surprise for those of you that know him.) Really, this is his favorite.   I love it, too, because it’s easy, makes the house smell delicious, and tastes great.   Plus, I’m always looking for a way to use up my roasts other than with carrots and potatoes, again. I know it looks like a  lot of ingredients, but really, it goes quick, like all crockpo

Harvest is fast approaching here.   With a newborn, I’m surprised how calm I am about it.   I think I’ve lost a grasp on how crazy it’s going to be soon.   Not like those of you who are farm wives weren’t aware… but here’s how we know harvest is around the corner…   1)       You washed all of the laundry in one day… because you could.   The laundry room is the calm before the storm, enjoying order before all of the dusty laundry with grain-filled-pockets starts flooding the floor.   Unless you have a newborn, like me: then, it’s more like the storm before the storm. 2)       “It just depends on the weather…” …has become the farm wife’s routine RSVP, again.   3)       We’re digging through all of the children’s clothes. Someday soon, cool weather will pop up unexpectedly.   She needs the right gear for the farm in a size that fits… because she’s going.   Mama needs a little relief where she can find it. 4)       I cooked with pumpkin already. These pumpkin an

Our farm baby loves one Saturday morning show about a chicken puppet in a costume shop.   Snuggling my girl, watching that show, a roar shook the windows one morning. No cause for alarm… we occasionally see a military plane fly over.   … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … It takes a lot to elicit a reaction from me.   I may be the compassionate, bleeding-heart type personality; however, dramatic I am not.   After the fifth pass, I grew curious.   After the sixth or seventh, I batted away scary scenarios rolling through my mind.   After the tenth, I finally unwound the toddler and got up to look out the window. Here’s my view.   My immediate reaction: How cool!   We live and farm in a mix of hills and creek bottoms.   Unlike our friends to the south, we don’t often see a crop duster.   What a treat! Almost as immediately, I thought about some of my nei