I had been working in my raspberry patch, getting rid of dead stalks and weeding before the warmth sprung up too many nasties. Finding that I actually had to turn a pail upside-down to sit halfway through the project left me baffled. Later that day, I grumbled to my husband, “My old self would have run circles around this self.”
Clinks, squeaks, pops and snaps greet me as I stretch awake in the morning. Youth is wasted on the young. That is not an original statement, I know, but just lately I am truly grasping the actual meaning. Reminiscing about our 40-plus years of working daily on a fully-functioning dairy farm, we marvel at our young selves. How on earth did we do it?
Milking, cleaning, feeding — all done before breakfast. We’d fill our days depending on the season — working the land plowing, dragging, picking stones and, finally, planting. Then harvesting hay, oats, corn and occasionally soybeans; filling silos or silage bags, stacking small dry-hay bales in the barn mow, mending fences, making and piling wood, mowing lawn and gardening. Starting all over again, we’d finish night chores before attending our kids’ events. Remembering the sheer level of work and busyness accomplished is enough to make this older self’s head spin.
As well, I’m finding out we don’t need as much fuel for our bodies as we once did. Whereas three square meals a day sustained us during our very physical past, we’ve found surviving very readily on a large, late breakfast and then an early supper suits us just fine.
Forever reminding each other to watch where we step and how we turn, we’re careful with these aging bodies, trying to avoid injury if we can help it. Some days, though, careful isn’t careful enough.
One day, my husband was helping our nephews sort cows and heifers. Every week, these transient, almost-due cows get trucked out of our farm and back to the main farm to deliver their calves. Those that are at the main farm come here then, when they’re bred and dry, which means their milking cycle is halted until they deliver their calves. If my husband is around when the boys come, he mans the gates. It always helps to have more hands on deck.
For some reason that day, the animals were feisty and acting crazy. Two were hurrying toward my husband; one was to go to the left, one to the right. As he was trying to close the gate, the cows slid into it, knocking him backwards on his keister, with the gate pinning both shins against the cement curb. There he lay, in a heap.
Running over to their uncle, the boys helped him up and made sure he was OK. Shaking his head, he later exclaimed to me, “I’m just getting too old to help sort cows. I can’t move as fast.” We were both thankful he didn’t get hurt worse. He got a gash on his shins and everything sort of ached. (He didn’t know what part to ice first.) But with time, all healed. We were glad he didn’t break a leg, which would have been much worse.
These days when I drive the skidster I have to make a concentrated effort to just pull myself up and into the seat. One day husband had me drive the tractor, backing it up to him so he could attach the PTO to our generator. I had a hard time shifting the tractor into reverse. I am perplexed just where my strength went.
Lifting weights each morning, I try as best as I can to keep muscle tone intact. Along with lifting weights, I have a physical therapy sort of workout which includes stretches. Watching what I eat, drinking lots of water, taking homeopathic vitamins and minerals and walking every day helps keep me as limber as possible.
Keeping physically active, my husband and I golf, which is a great social sport as well. J&B Golf Course in Marion is a well-kept, picturesque 18-hole course that’s only about 15 minutes from us. With our flexible lifestyle, we’re able to take advantage of this great way to stay in shape.
The sap season kept us active in our woods, a wonderful but weird early season. We are humbly grateful for our forest property; the beauty of the woods and physical energy exerted there on our hill is welcomed. From collecting sap and making wood, to harvesting venison and turkey, our versatile woods is indeed a blessing.
Tending to the cows and heifers on our place and just recently the addition of six little pigs, we are grateful for the chores that keep us moving. Moving slower for sure, but moving.
While I’m aware my physical body won’t last forever, I want to keep this temple of the Holy Spirit as healthy as possible until Jesus comes to take me home — and then I’ll look forward to my glorified one.
(“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.” 1 Corinthians 6:19-20)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
