This is a fictitious letter I created to summarize a common complaint. I attribute it to a rural woman I will call “Carol.” These thoughts capture the distress many women feel about the quality of their marital relationships in farm and ranch family business operations.
As I write this, farmers here in north-central Montana are sidelined from harvest by rain. A few overnight showers turned into true rainfall by mid-morning, dashing hopes of being in the field for the next several days.
It was so hot the other day I saw a funeral procession pull through a Dairy Queen. OK, that’s an exaggeration, but it was really hot.
In this life, one of the best things we can strive to be is a good steward of the land. Our ownership of land is temporary. The legacy we leave behind can last long past our time here on earth, and the land can be a hallmark of that legacy.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published February 17, 1997. We’re running it now in honor of all the hard work that has gone into county fairs this summer and as a guide as you plan for next year.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published on March 3, 2003.
In America, we can always count on exceptional summertime fairs across the Midwest. These fairs display the best that our industry has to offer — 4-H and FFA competitions, foods for all tastes, agricultural and home life exhibits, carnival rides and a wide range of entertainment.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published on March 3, 2003.
Summer only arrived a few weeks ago, but extreme heat and storms have already taken a toll on many Iowa farms. Corn fields are uneven. Soybeans are patchy. Some fields will recover; others won’t.
On a recent Saturday morning, my wife and I had run a few errands when she reminded me she had been given a gift card for a new business. Neither of us were familiar with the place but gathered from the name that they sold cookies.
Afew months ago, I was at my brother’s farm for a quick visit. Rudi, my German Shepherd, and I were enjoying the warm, sunny spring day by going for a long walk.
Years ago, on an airplane, I found myself in conversation with a business executive from Texas Instruments. He was generous enough to share his formula for success: Find a need, fill it with quality and market to those who have the need.
I remember vividly the compass on the dashboard of my Grandma and Grandpa Lyle’s sedan. The movement of the compass inside the plastic dome fascinated me. I had no idea how it worked, just that it gave Grandpa the confidence to let Grandma feel like she was in charge of directions.
God made a wise decision when He decided females would serve as mothers. Men generally just can’t do mommy things as well as mommies.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published July 19, 2000.
What the world needs now is love, sweet love…” Jackie DeShannon’s 1965 hit record spoke a truth. The world always needs more love.
I have a quarterly project with Rudi, my 3-year-old, wonderful German Shepherd. We take a bag while walking so we can collect garbage.
At the outset, let me use a common term in today’s vernacular to describe the experience: Amazing! Absolutely amazing! All you want to know and are not afraid to ask. The fruit of scientific discovery, the best practices and the wisdom and knowledge of the world’s best thinkers is accessible to us.
Bridges have structure (a guardrail) to protect cars from going over the edge and into the water. Every time I cross the Mississippi River into Illinois, I wonder how many of us would drive differently across that bridge if there were no guardrails to protect us.
Editor’s note: This column was originally published on Nov. 1, 2004.
I have a confession to make: I do not follow social media, but I do some doomscrolling.
Editor’s note: This was originally published May 30, 2005.
Every day at the farm, my Dad, Mom and I would watch Bonanza at 1 p.m. My dad loved the show and my mom loved my dad. I loved westerns so it all worked out.
Some time back I saw a bumper sticker that read, “If you can read this, thank a teacher.” I quietly mumbled, “Amen.”
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