Buttoning up our third crop hay awhile ago, we topped the silo off by chopping one smaller field of corn because our third crop hay yield was less than desirable.
Husband decided we will wait a few days before beginning to fill our silage bags. The silo-filling job was completed one morning and I had the rest of that day, before night chores, to mow the lawn.
To actually finish the task of filling silo, my husband had to fork the silage level as the blower was running to circulate the air. He made the trek up the silo immediately after the last load, not letting even a half a day pass. Deadly silage gasses can form quickly, making the job extremely hazardous. As it is, it’s an unpleasant, objectionable task to level off a silo and then cap it with a tarp. He tackles it promptly for safety reasons and also, just to get it done and out of mind.
As he was forking, I was mowing the lawn. Around and around I’d make my laps, always craning my neck as I got close to check if I could see him moving anywhere. I hate it when he’s in the silo, my mind taking me where I do not wish to go. The “what ifs?” form in my head and I find myself planning solutions to circumstances that hopefully will never become reality. Finally I could see that he had completed the dreaded task. I sighed; relieved he was done and OK, and also that meant we were officially done.
I had a few days reprieve from tractor work. My mind took a different turn, thinking about what I can do in the next few days that I have to myself — a much more pleasant way to spend the time on the lawn mower.
I like to make lists, crossing off as I’m done. However, the farm takes precedence over anything I might want to do in the house, like wash windows and take screens down, straighten my office area, organize cupboards, decorate for fall, or sort through clothes and/or items we no longer need. We are guilty of the sin of gluttony in this house. We have too much stuff. I am trying to down-size but need the time in which to do it, and also, I must admit, I have to be in the proper frame of mind.
My sister occasionally has come over to help me. Just for example, I have a tendency to save different shapes and sizes of boxes. They look so solid and good and useful.
Shrewdly scrutinizing my nice stash, sister warned, “Kay. Don’t look,” as she broke down and recycled my little hoard. Oh did I need that. “A few are OK,” according to my sis, “I’ll let you keep 10 boxes. And that’s it!”
When there’s a break in the field work, my husband has his own lists, although he keeps his in his head. Cleaning up the area around our silage bags, cleaning out the heifer barn, reinforcing fences, making a farm run to town for necessary supplies, are all on his immediate list of things to do. There seems to be an endless list with never enough time in which to accomplish everything.
Also, I sneak in appointments for him. Awhile back I made an eye-doctor appointment that he didn’t know about. I tried planning it for when we’d be in between hay and corn and I got it right on the money, amazingly. One day he was talking about making a farm run to town soon.
“Plan it for Tuesday because you have an eye-doctor appointment at 11:30, you’ll be in town anyway.”
“What?” He looked annoyed.
He heard me. He just didn’t want to hear me. It’s hard for him to stop, taking a chunk out of one day sitting in any sort of waiting room whatsoever. It’s something I make sure that he does. This is why I am so indebted to Rhonda Strebel and the Rural Health Initiative. They come to us to do our physical health check; we don’t have to shut down and go anywhere. It’s so appreciated.
Planning to accomplish a few things during my couple of days away from the field is empowering to me. I love to cross things off my list.
“Write a story.”
Done.
(“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” Jeremiah 29:11)
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