Farmland, Part 1

I fell in love last night. With what, you might ask?

Luke and I had a date night. The fact that we went on a date during the spring is surprising - the fact that it was on a weeknight was even more surprising. What could pull Luke away from the farm you might ask? Earlier in the week I saw an ad that a documentary entitled "Farmland" would be playing for one night only at the movie theater. It seemed like something Luke would like, so I watched the trailer. The trailer made the documentary look awesome, so I asked Luke to go with me. (View the Trailer here: http://www.farmlandfilm.com/#trailer).

As Luke and I drove to the movie theater, it was quite obvious we were cutting in close on time. Running late, as usual. Why do farmers always run late???

 I said to Luke "Well, there will probably be a lot of farmers in the audience. They might as well start the movie 5 minutes late so that everyone will technically be on time." Luke chuckled, and agreed. He told me that by always running late, he was adding years to my life. I disagreed, saying the stress of perpetually running late was taking years off my life. His argument was that knowing that no matter what, we will be late, means I never have to stress about being on time. Faulty logic, but I suppose I would stress less if I didn't hold myself to the notion that being on time is incredibly important. Or, I could just do what I do now, and blame Luke!

 The documentary was excellent. The film acknowledges that farming is a relatively old profession, but yet that we need young people to return to farming to keep the farming tradition alive. The movie celebrates the work, the lives, of 6 young farmers. One thing I loved about it is that it didn't bash any type of farming. So many farming movies these days ("Food, Inc." for example) promote one side of agriculture while bashing the other. I loved that "Farmland" celebrated all types of farmers: the small-scale CSA farmer, the large- scale organic farmer, the cattle rancher, the pig farmer, the chicken farmer, the GMO cash crop farmer. It didn't push judgment against any one type. The farmers in the video even said while they prefer their own method of farming, their job is not to bash other farmers. I very much respect that and appreciated that about this documentary.

So, why did I fall in love last night? Because the video filled me with a lot of pride for the farm, pride and love that I haven't had in awhile. I have been very apathetic toward the farm in the past year. I did a lot of reflecting on that during and after the video. I could write a short novel on it - so I will spread out my digestion, and my overcoming, of my apathy over a few blog posts.

One reason the video filled me with pride was to see all the farmers and their young children (4 of the 6 farmers had little girls and boys.) To see them riding on the tractors with their dad, the love they had for the farm, to see their squeals when they opened up a toy John Deere combine for Christmas. I can already picture that for Henry. Henry loves to grab his toy tractor and push it all around our house. I can see how wonderful it will be to have Henry grow up on a farm. The smile that forms when he goes to look at the pigs running around the pasture. The manner in which the fussy boy settles down when he listens to the clucks and calls of our chickens. Henry has his own little mini petting zoo that he is growing up on. I can't wait until this summer, to see him explore the farm for the first time. To watch him munch on a cherry tomato right off the vine, grab off a cucumber and enjoy it right there in the fields. This fall when he will be staining his hands red with the juice of a raspberry as he picks them with his mom. Wiping the dirt off his knees from falling in the fields when he runs to visit his dad. I can picture it, and it is beautiful.

This is a picture that I took of Henry when he was watching the pigs run around their pasture. The pure joy on his face. And on Luke's. If that isn't a reason to love farmland.....

....To be continued....

Pig Poop < Baby Poop

My tough-guy farmer husband has handled a lot of "dirty" jobs. He cleans the chicken coop without a second thought. He takes no issue with grabbing a shovel and scooping a trailer's load worth of chicken excrement. If he takes a break to get a drink of water, sometimes he even absentmindedly leaves his boots on and brings chicken feces-coated bedding into our kitchen. (This is one of the many reasons I need to vacuum my house every single day, especially since our sweet little H has hawk-like vision, and can scope out a microscopic speck on the floor over ten feet away from him, that he just MUST put in his mouth. If you remember back to my ladybug post: yesterday, I saw him chewing and making a strange face. I open in his mouth and what do I find....a ladybug! I can surround him in toys and vacuum daily, and he will still find the one thing that he can't have, and try to eat it....but I digress).

Anyway, back to the point. Luke also has the responsibility of shoveling the pig manure. Typically, the pigs go to the bathroom in their pasture, but the pigs that we have when there is still snow on the ground don't like to venture outside, so they go to the bathroom in the pig pen. I find pig manure to be foul stuff. It stinks. When their is an east wind and I have the windows open, the smell quickly consumes my house, and forces me to shut windows. It is terribly nasty. But Luke will not hesitate to grab his shovel, and clean out the pig pen, stench and all. 

Pigs, chickens, ducks, even Tobshu's feces....none of it bothers him, and he cleans it up without a thought. So how is that little H can go to the bathroom in his diaper, and Luke high-tails it out of the room? Or pass him to me and scoff at the smell? I don't get it. In my opinion, baby poop is not nearly as bad as pig poop. Luke disagrees. Now don't get me wrong, he has changed plenty of dirty diapers in his fatherhood debut, but if he had the opportunity, he would pass the job on to me every time. I find it hilariously ironic.

Little H isn't feeling well this week, and therefore left us something of an unpleasant surprise. Tough guy, manure-shoveling farmer-man was beyond disgusted. I needed assistance with that one - Luke sort of awkwardly laughed or cringed the whole time.  Now, don't get me wrong, it wasn't a glowing-motherhood moment for me either. But I guarantee I would rather change the diaper of a baby before shoveling pig manure. I guess that is just another way Luke and I are different from each other. And I suppose, it establishes a good balance between us as well! 

It Smells Like Ladybuy Pee?

If people every worried about ladybugs going extinct, they could rest assured the population that exists in our house could probably replace the wild population. They have a very healthy residence in very peculiar rooms in our house. In particular, they like to inhabit my son's room, our master bathroom, and the laundry room. I rarely see one in our living room, but walk into H's room and it is like a ladybug metropolis. I can vacuum them up, get every last one, and the next day they reappear, by the dozens, as if by magic.

Luke orders live ladybugs to help control aphids in the greenhouse. It works wonders. No chemicals involved, and the ladybugs really do their job. Sometimes I wonder if Luke accidentally released them in the house, with how many we have. He swears he didn't, but I have to wonder. There have been many occasions where he brings one or two into the house by accident. They travel aimlessly on his Carhart pants, only to find themselves in some new paradise, most likely Henry's room. I find them to be a mild annoyance, Luke finds them to be an essential farm employee.

Luke orders ladybugs by the quart. How many ladybugs is that?  About 20,000!!! (If you ever want ladybugs for your own purposes, check out http://www.thebeneficialinsectco.com/aphid-control-ladybugs.htm ). He releases them into the greenhouse; a location that he himself spends countless hours. Needless to say, he knows the little creatures well. I had no idea how well he knew them until a recent candlelight diner.

It was a peaceful night. Henry was in bed, dinner was made, and the wine was on the table. Lights were out, candles were lit, and we were conversing about our days. Out of nowhere Luke says "It smells like ladybug pee."

"What?" I ask, confused. The dinner I made smelt delicious, delicious aromas of pork filling our house and enticing our tastebuds. How on earth could it smell like ladybug pee? What does ladybug pee even smell like?

Luke said "Didn't you tell me that when a ladybug lands on you, it pees?"

I think my face let him know I had no idea what he was talking about.

Luke continued, "Well, whatever it is, it has a distinct smell. Trust me, I am with them all the time. I know."

My face, still blank.

Luke went on further, "Seriously Mel, I mean it. I bet there is a ladybug by us." He seemed like a lunatic, but being a scientist myself, I had to check the theory. So, I started looking around. I stood up, walked behind him, and sure enough, crawling on his left shoulder was a ladybug.

I know my profession well. I know the ins and outs of my students, and can read many of them like a book. But to recognize the excrement smell of an insect - well that is just beyond me. Impressive, to say the least.