Innholdsfortegnelse for June - July 2016 i Farm and Ranch Living

Flying the Flag Recently my husband, Steve, and I traveled out to Barnard, Kansas, to help our friends Mike and Connie Gebhart with the wheat harvest. Steve drives a grain truck for them, hauling the harvested wheat to the grain elevator, where they measure the weight and moisture. The Gebharts have two sons, Matt and Kelly, who take turns driving the combine. Our farm manager, James Thomas, and other friends and family also help out. This picture was taken on July 4. Mike decided to fly the flag to show his patriotic side. I thought this was such a great way to celebrate being an American. JUDY BETTIS KANSAS CITY, KANSAS Patriotism on Parade Every year my dad, John Arie of Bondville, Illinois, drives his 1911 Model T…

Regardless of where we stand on government’s proper role in American life, few of us gaze across the Grand Canyon and wish someone had flooded it for hydroelectric power. We don’t visit the Gettysburg meadow where Pickett’s men marched into a maelstrom of smoke and lead and mourn its wasted potential for four-bedroom, three-bath houses on quarter-acre lots. National parks connect us with something larger and more enduring than our daily lives. They provide perspective in a world of 24-hour-news-cycle distractions. They give us comfort. They give us hope. And if you’re willing to look for it, so does the National Park Service’s complex, ever-evolving relationship with agriculture. “On both sides, there is a growing appreciation of ways the two can live together that wasn’t even imagined a century ago,”…

Many farm families think of the kitchen as the house’s nerve center. Mom says an official farm kitchen also needs a window that opens onto the operation—like a ship captain’s bridge. “Our window faces east,” she says. “The sun rises over the pasture, and full moons sit large over the neighbor’s field. I watch tractors heading to the field, cars on the lane and cattle trying to jump the fence.” Mom likes the view, but she isn’t so poetic about the inside decor. “The linoleum floor looks like we have wild weekend barbecues inside, and the stove is old enough to land a spot on ‘Antiques Roadshow,’” she says. Mom and Dad have held court here since they were married in 1949, and she says that fancy appliances have never…

Carving a living and an agricultural niche out of the clay-filled hillsides of southern Illinois is a challenge. That’s why innovation and diversification are keys to a farm’s survival. At Tanglefoot Ranch, we have several hundred acres of corn and soybeans, two herds of beef cattle, sheep raised specifically for meat, a peach orchard and two high tunnels producing raspberries, tomatoes and other vegetables. We also have six farm ponds that grow freshwater prawns, also known as shrimp. The farm, owned by Grover Webb; his wife, Shirley; and his semiretired brother, Richard, has grown from 60 acres when it was established in 1946 to 950 acres today. I work at the ranch as a horticulturalist and marketing manager. People often ask Grover how he ended up growing freshwater shrimp—a type…

Jack and Ben Mitchell, ages 11 and 8, helped me with the restoration. My grandson marked out the design. I grew up on a farm in New Hartford, Iowa, where we raised hogs, dairy cows and chickens, and grew corn, soybeans and oats. My dad, Oscar Miller, had a tractor just like this one. He always farmed with Oliver tractors. My brother still uses one of Dad’s tractors on his farm in Iowa. While I don’t farm anymore, I cherish my memories of those days. Once, when I was cultivating corn at age 13, the tractor started knocking really badly, so I shut it down and walked home to tell Dad. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but he didn’t even start it up to listen…

I first heard the soft hum of the Farmall 100 in 1957, a monumental year for my daddy, Woodrow Wilson “Red” Vester. He faced an illness that required hospitalization during spring planting. Then that summer the tobacco crop failed. But Daddy kept the faith that times would get better. A neighbor down the road also fell on hard times. He needed money and offered to sell Daddy his 1955 Farmall 100 for $2,000. That was a lot for a family that barely survived on $100 a month. All his life, my father had walked behind a mule to tend rented farmland, and he dreamed of the day when he could own a tractor. He went to talk to Mr. Gray, the loan officer for farmers in Nash County. My daddy…

It was late afternoon on a July day in 1967. We still had two loads of hay to bring in from the field, and we were desperate to finish in time to watch the MLB All-Star Game. So we decided we could save some time by stacking both loads of hay on one rack wagon. And, sure enough, we painstakingly stacked 323 heavy bales on one big load. When we got the load down to the barnyard, though, it wouldn’t fit under the electric lines. We solved that by lifting the lines higher with long, wooden poles. But we couldn’t raise the height of the barn door, and we couldn’t leave the load sitting outside. So we unhappily unloaded several layers onto another wagon until we could get them both…

Joy’s Dream My husband, Glenn, and his father, Edward, built our dairy barn in 1956 with lumber salvaged from a barn built by Glenn’s grandfather, Torger. He homesteaded here in 1882. We stopped dairying in 1988 but still use—and love—our barn. Barn quilts in Ohio and Iowa inspired us to create our own unique quilt design, which we call Joy’s Dream. JOY HAGEN WEBSTER, SOUTH DAKOTA Goodbye Velour “Memories of Jenny” in the February/March issue reminds me of my son’s registered Guernsey cow, Velour. She was the grandmother of Valentine, a two-time American Guernsey Association All-American. Velour lived to be 19 years old but began to suffer from arthritis. One day I spent six hours in the barn trying to keep her comfortable until the vet arrived to…

Built as a small family farm in 1910, Barberry Hill Farm has evolved to meet 21st century needs while still maintaining much of the charm and character of its near-19th-century origins. My wife, Kelly, and I are now raising the fourth generation—our five children—on the family farm in the heart of Madison, Connecticut, a quaint coastal town along Long Island Sound. Less than a half mile from the seaside, Barberry Hill Farm is 25 acres of history, an example of a time that has almost been erased from the New England landscape. We keep it going through a variety of activities, including Community Supported Agriculture subscriptions, farmers markets, a farm stand and sales to local restaurants. Our goal is to maintain the land as a viable productive entity, which means…

The green fronds, some 5 feet tall, filled the high tunnel. It looked like we were growing for Palm Sunday. With more than a little trepidation mixed with expectation and excitement, my husband, Bill, pushed his hands into the media and gently harvested Casselmonte Farm’s first ginger. Unlike the rough, beige skin of mature ginger, the baby ginger’s flesh was an opalescent creamy color with beautiful pink bud scales. And what a heady fragrance! That was September 2011, and it’s been quite a ride since then. Bill and I purchased Casselmonte Farm in Powhatan, Virginia, in 2006, two weeks after we married. Known as Casselmonte since 1805, the 122 acres were a pine plantation with only two open acres, which was in fescue. Our intention was to manage the land…

My husband, Max, and I bought a 70-acre farm in Crocker, Missouri, in 1977. Max also bought a 1949 Ford 8N to help with the farm-work. He loved his tractor, but after 10 years of use the transmission failed and he traded it in. In 2004, he saw a restored Ford 8N for sale along the road. When he realized it was his original tractor, he bought it and took it home to stay. Max became good friends with Billy, the man who had restored the 8N. In late summer 2012, Max stopped to visit with Billy, who had just restored a 1942 Ford 9N. At first Billy said he was not interested in selling it, but then one day he called up Max and asked if he would still…

Sometimes a pile of rust has more appeal than a beautiful new paint job. We like our 1934 Dodge pickup just as it is. Almost everyone who sees us driving down the street agrees, based on the high-signs, horn toots and thumbs-up that we get. It took 82 years to develop this beautiful look. Our truck worked hard on a farm for many years and spent several more in storage with lumber and other materials stacked on it. Then it sat for about 30 years in our friend’s junkyard, where it perfected its finish. Our friend gave it to us about 10 years ago with the stern stipulation that we would not allow it to be chopped down and hot-rodded. Such a thought never so much as entered our minds.…

Dick Huttinga could easily afford fancy, powerful machines to do his haying, but he prefers draft horses. Dick lives on the farm where he was born in 1952. Like most farmers, his annual income went up and down often enough for him to look for an additional way to help pay the bills. So now, in addition to his 400-acre farm, he operates one of the most successful construction businesses in southwest Montana. “Construction is what we do for a living,” he says, “but horses are our way of life. My horses are valuable tools, not just something that stands out in the field munching grass. I use my teams for haying, mowing, raking and feeding the cattle. I could get the work done faster with the usual big machinery,…

My gramps, Howard Kunkle, is a hardworking retired coal miner and a wonderful family man. And he has always been a kid at heart—he was doing handstands at age 70! He has a beautiful chunk of land we call The Pond near Creekside, Pennsylvania, where he lives with Grandma Margaret. Gramps is also a super fun Great-Gramps to my children, Lilly and Blake. He bought some wheels at a garage sale, and then his wheels started turning. He took those wheels and built a wagon train for the kids. Grandma Margaret decorated each cart with a theme. One is a race car, one an ocean, one a school bus and one a flower garden. Along with the train, they built a little coal-mining town for the kids to play in.…

I live on my great-great-uncle’s farm with my mom and dad and my brothers, Jake, JW and Stephen. I’d like to share a story that I wrote in the fourth grade. Because I am the oldest, I have to help my mom and dad take care of my brothers and also help with the farmwork. We have lots of beef cows, two Belgian horses, two Thoroughbreds and two Quarter Horses. I help my dad clean out the barns and feed the horses. We have a man who trims the horses’ feet. He gives them medicine for worms and brushes them until they look really clean and shiny. My dad is going to help me learn how to harness and lead the horses. I will then be able to try riding…

Fresh baby ginger’s subtle flavor pairs well with a surprising number of foods—including pears! “At dinner with friends one evening, the lady of the house served us some pears she had preserved with ginger and lemon,” says Jeni Pittard of Commerce, Georgia. “The flavor was so heavenly I decided to use the fresh pears she gave us to try my hand at a ginger-and-lemon freezer jam.” Jeni’s jam is featured alongside hundreds more quick, delicious recipes in Taste of Home’s Quick Cooking Annual Recipes 2016. For a 30-day free trial, go to tasteofhomebooks.com/FRQC. Ginger Pear Freezer Jam PREP: 30 MIN. COOK: 10 MIN. + STANDING 5 cups finely chopped peeled fresh pears (about 10 medium) 1 package (1 ounces) pectin for lower sugar recipes 2 tablespoons lemon juice 1 teaspoons…

Our house and other farm buildings sat on high ground above Cincinnati Creek in Arkansas, looking down on the bottomland fields to the south and the pastureland to the north. In 1943, Dad was still farming with his team of horses, Old Bill and Dan. Dad’s cousin Ralph Smith, who lived on the adjoining farm, purchased a new Fordson tractor. As Ralph mowed hay, sometimes my brother J.L. and I would ride along. One day as Dad plowed the potato patch with Old Bill, he watched Ralph cutting hay in his small meadow below the barn in a bend of the creek to the east. He noticed Ralph was getting quite close to the steep bank of a large drainage ditch that cut across the meadow each time he turned…

“It works best at a horse’s walking speed, as it was originally intended.” Benny’s Centennial Tedder Our good neighbor Benny Sorom cared for his widowed mother, Anna, for 26 years on the family farmstead until she died at 102 in 1997. The farm, which has been in continuous agricultural operation since 1903, was recognized as a century farm in 2006. His award and farm photos were displayed at the Clearwater County Fair. Benny was a proud man that day, and deservedly so. Century farms are rare here in the harsh climate of northern Minnesota. Since then, Benny has retired from milking dairy cows, but he continues to care for the land he loves. He and my husband, Jim, who’s also retired, crop-share his farmland. They plant about 70 acres each…

Because of several heart attacks, my father could no longer work a regular job. To make ends meet, he and I picked pole beans every summer on farms in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. It was hot, hard work, and they paid by the pound, not the hour. I don’t remember exactly how much, but it was only pennies. Like most things, pole beans have a season. The vines wind higher and higher as the season progresses. The blossoms and beans begin to sprout near the bottom at first and gradually work their way up the vine. Bottom beans are harder to pick. It is literally stoop labor. So, of course, I had a youthful inclination to pick at shoulder height. My father and I always picked on opposite sides of the…