On the Radio and in Real Life Too

On Saturday I sat next to my mom in the combine for a spell.  Side note, I like the saying sit a spell.  Another side note, I didn't get to sit in the seat the entire time.  I spent some time curled up on the floor leaned up against the glass because this little one is something sometimes and she wasn't having sharing that seat.  No she wasn't. 

 

 

One last side note, I did the same thing to this one later in the evening.  It only seemed fair.   

 

 

Back to the start of it - Momma Debi and I in the combine with dried up sunflowers as our view.  We visited about the mom and daughter life happenings and I tried to listen to the Bison football game at the same time on the radio.  But if I'm being absolutely honest, here's how it went.  Volume up, catch a bit.  Volume down, visit with mom.  Volume up, catch a bit.  Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 

 

Which means at one point I sent a text that went like this, "Touchdown!  High five.  Shimmy shake." 

 

"Wrong team." 

 

Yep, I am that great at following along and paying attention.  It's a lucky thing he's spent some time with me at the actual games this fall.  As in, he has physically sat next to me as I ping on this and pong on that and don't have the ability to focus on...well...much.  Therefore, my getting the team wrong while listening on the radio?  Didn't faze him a bit.   

 

"There's my blonde moment for the week." 

 

"Is this the beginning or the end?" 

 

Touché. 

 

 

He embraces the ridiculousness, adds to it really.  And I sure do enjoy the Bison games more than I ever thought I would.  It might be partly due to theme outfits.  You know how I feel about those. 

 

 

Or it mostly is probably, if I'm being absolutely honest again, due to the company I get to keep during them.  His friends are gold I tell you, pure gold.  I guess he isn't too shabby either.  High five.  Shimmy shake. 

I'll Take Earrings for Farming

I grabbed the CB microphone from above my head, pulled it to my face, held the button down, and said this, "Well ladies, today we will have a good rhythm out here.  For two reasons.  Number one: you both have cute hats on.  Number two: I wore earrings this time." 

Kathy piped back in with, "Sounds great.  Yesterday we were all over the place." 

To which I replied, "I'm saving the lip gloss for extreme measures but I'll do it if I need to." 

Momma Debi popped in with, "Here's to a great day for us." 

And then just when I thought the moment had passed with the three of us girls left in the field to run the combines and grain cart while Dad-o, Brother, and Buckshot did the semi and truck driving, I heard, "I'm wearing a shirt today Amy.  Does that count?"  Coming from my ever wise brother. 

"Does it have pearl snaps?" 

"No, but it's bright green." 

"Neon?!  Well you are covered then.  Neon always works." 

I'll be honest and say I'm not sure if my earrings worked or not for getting the flow going because I didn't even have a second to breathe in between the combines being full and dumping into the trucks and throwing a niece or a nephew on my hip from time to time so they could get a ride to delivering shakes that Sil had brought out to reading a text or two from Sister Pister who was at a jackpot barrel racing to trying to attempting to capture some moments.  Like the fact that even though the tractor has more technology and monitors in it than a spaceship, I much prefer to refer the writing on the window and add my own marker when figuring out the weights on the loads. 

 

For awhile I was sweating.  It was hot.  Really hot.  So hot it was the kind of sky which looks gray and the dust hangs and it's like you are in an oven.   A real oven.  Maybe even on the convection setting. 

Some years of driving the grain cart, there is some wait time.  Some time to do things like take a drink or go to the bathroom behind the tractor tire or sing along loudly to a song or talk on the phone.  But not this year.  No wait time.  Except in the instance when the cart is full and both combines are full and the semi is not back yet.  That kind of wait time can only mean one thing.  Smiles on the faces of my family. 

It's like my dad said yesterday, "It doesn't get much better than this.  Good wheat and so and so on the radio."  I can't remember the so and so he said because by the time he got to that part of the conversation I was distracted. 

Anyways, getting back to my point.  It's been a fun week.  Was that point?  I don't even remember where I'm headed with this.  Harvest is always a stressful and crazy time of year on the farm but when there is "good wheat" it sure does make for happy. 

That good wheat though means no time for the grain cart driver who likes to take pictures to do that picture taking.  But I have to capture the moments.  So I got creative. 

I'd literally jump out of the tractor with the combine quickly approaching, snap a few, and then fly back in, and crank it up to catch up with them so we could dump on the go.  I also sometimes might have taken a picture or two while driving, but let's not talk about that.  My dad reads this. 

 

Right after this one, I threw my camera to Easy Rider who happened to be sitting in my tractor's buddy seat and told him, "Hang on bud!  Here we go!" 

He held on.  To himself and my camera. 

And I love how he already takes everything in and talks about his plans for when he is "big efufv" he'll do it this way and that way.  His farmer wheels are already in motion. 

I dare say it's in all our blood.  This farming thing.  Sure I have my normal job and I'm not really a contributing aspect to the farm anymore, but I still get a chest squeeze feeling when seeing the sky against the amber wheat with a full combine approaching and knowing my mom is the one driving it and being aware of the years and years of ups and downs and uncontrollables and the risks which were taken.  It's hard to describe.  Other than simply saying, it's a chest squeeze thing. 

It's the kind of thing which puts a bounce in your step and makes you feel like all is right in the world while you run your hiney back to the tractor because that combine is full.

And it pushes you.  To keep striving to work hard and reach goals and take the downs in stride and the ups in thankfulness.  Pushes you.  To turn around and take just one more. 

After much craziness, we finished the field in the early evening.  Which meant I had some real time.  Time to take it in.  Take in that my mom and her best friend since childhood drive the combines.  I asked Momma Debi the other day, "Did you ever imagine in a million years when you and Kathy were growing up and climbing trees that one day you each be in a combine in the same field?"  Life is something.  It really is.

 

Time to take in that I annoy Buckshot to the maximum.  But with the realization of knowing he appreciates it.  He really does.  At least that's what I tell myself.  It helps when he says things like, "That's actually kind of a cool picture." 

 

Time to say to my brother after he came rolling in to take the last of the grain in his semi, "You do this one.  I have pictures to attend to."  He might roll his eyes at me but he was wearing neon.  Which puts him right in my book. 

Time to have a moment with these two ladies.  A moment of we are capable women.  Women who can be left in a field to operate machinery.  And women who can get the job done.  With some laughs along the way. 

 
And then the whole notion of having some time quickly left the scene.  Moving to the next field had to happen.  Dad-o arrived back to the action from his semi load and we kicked it in high gear to pack it up and head down the road.  

It was sunset drive home.  Across a lake.  Up and down coulee roads.  Radio pumping out songs like "I wouldn't have missed it for the world" from Ronnie Milsap.  I was a happy girl.  A happy and blessed farm girl wearing her earrings.

Not My Turn...Yet

"Okay...now if I come out there to take some pictures and ride with you, am I going to put to work for the rest of day and night?" 

This was a necessary question to ask before I headed out to a field of winter wheat my family was harvesting.  A person can be put to work very quickly when entering such a situation.  Very quickly.  Especially if a person comes quipped with years of experience. 

So I treaded lightly on Saturday afternoon. 

"You should be fine to come and ride with me in the combine.  All jobs are covered." 

"I'm trusting you Momma Debi.  I'm trusting you." 

This was also a necessary statement to make as I wanted that mom of mine to be in the full know my plans were to simply be a visitor.  A watcher of the action.  The coming and going of the semis and trucks.  The dumping of the grain into the cart and then right back out of the cart.  The quick talking of the CB radios.  All with the one goal in mind.  Keep the combines from ever stopping.  I took it all in.  Without the stress of accountability in that action. 

   

It's not that I don't like to help.  Because I do.  I love to get right in there.  It's that I knew my time was coming in that tractor driving the grain cart.  I had already agreed in previous texting converstations I would run the cart for this week which means I was well aware it was soon my turn to be the one hustling to and fro.

So Saturday?  I wanted to relax and take in Saturday afternoon in the field. 

To sit next to my mom and have uninterrupted visits.  Except that's kind of not an option when operating a combine.  She had the business of a forty foot header with a whole lot of feeding grain to attend to but still...we were able to talk.  Really talk. 

We were mostly uninterrupted until Buckshot came cruising up beside us to dump on the go once the hopper was full.  Each time, I had to duck down so Momma Debi could see what she was doing and shut my mouth as not distract her.  Because there's more than a little grain coming out of that auger. 

Looking down at Buckshot in that tractor only inches away from the header, I knew my turn was coming. 

I tossed that thought to the side and instead was a fan of being able to cross my legs without worrying about the clutch or the brake and gave some love to the shiny objects. 

My few hours in the afternoon on Saturday of being a visitor to the harvesting of the winter wheat was a nice easy break in.  Because on Monday morning, I was in the driver seat of the grain cart tractor.  A full participant in the chaos.  Including taking pictures while driving.  Shhhh...don't tell.

More to come on this harvest season.  It's right up there with some of my favorite times so believe me I have been snapping away.  But we were rained out this afternoon and I can't be using my unexpected free time to do any more sitting.  Off to clean and organize my closet I go.  With all new coral colored hangers to use!  It's the little things people.  It really is.     

Reflections Lounge

As I sit here watching it rain, I keep thinking about harvest.  How on September 1, it should be hot and sunny.  How the combines should be rolling.  How there should be a fine dust in the air from the remnants of the grain and the dust from the trucks that roar on their missions down the gravel roads.  And, I keep thinking about how this harvest I feel disconnected.  For the first time in, well probably forever, this is the longest I have went into the harvest season without so much as even stepping foot in a field.  I'm not sure why that has happened this year.  All I know is it really must change soon.  But, it won't be today.  Today it rains.  

There are certain memories that will forever accompany the word "harvest."  Right now, I keep thinking of one that involves happy hour.  Yes, happy hour.  Who doesn't love happy hour?  Turns out, me.   

I've helped with or done by myself most jobs associated with harvest...drove truck, moved augers, cleaned grain bins, unplugged combines, entertained a mechanic when he was fixing a combine until two o'clock in the morning {ok, that sounds bad, but by entertaining, I mean telling jokes}, drove grain cart, packed lunches, saw my life flash before me when the brakes of the truck up and quit, went on part runs, brought supper {yes, it's supper} out to the field, tarped trucks and had the tarp fly away with me hanging on for dear life to the end, detected and then helped extinguish a combine fire, held many tools during break downs, partook in the feeling of joy, watched with awe the passing of summer and the turning of fall, found Dad-o passed out from heat stroke next to the freezer in the basement, you know, the usual harvest things.  I think the only thing I haven't done is drive combine.  I'm too distractible for that.  It just wouldn't be a good idea.  And, I've never had to make any big decisions about harvest or anything to do with the farm.  And, that's also a very good thing.   

Really though, most harvest days, I was "assigned" to the tractor for grain cart duty.  I like to think it's because I could handle the pressure.  But, it's really probably because it's the one job that doesn't change much and it keeps you busy enough to make sure you stay on task.  You don't have time to get distracted by shiny things.  The grain cart tractor and I became real close friends over the years. 

Such close friends we enjoyed happy hour together in Reflections Lounge every evening when the sun went down.  I called it Reflections Lounge because the tractor lights would reflect off of the loader which caused a problem.  The problem was, after the sun went down, all I saw out the windshield of the tractor was myself.  Yes, I would be driving a tractor and grain cart around a field, dumping combines on the go, and all I could see was myself.  It drove me crazy and it was actually a bit scary.  I'm all about checking the status of my hair and applying lip gloss, but I'm also all about not running into a combine or a truck.  Anyways, I would get on the business ban radio {think Smoky and the Bandit} and would say to anyone that was listening, "It's now happy hour in Reflections Lounge."  And, then I'm sure everyone rolled their eyes because it was a nightly affair and they were sick and tired of hearing about it. 

But, let me just say this, one of the very few times Dad-o had to drive the tractor and grain cart after sunset, he said to me, "Geez Amy, it's really hard to see in there."  It was all I had in me to not say, "Well thank you Captain Obvious."  But, I didn't.  I just said, "Yep, sure is."

Momma Debi also spent her fair share of hours in that tractor and grain cart so she was also extremely familiar with Reflections Lounge.  It's really too bad we couldn't have enjoyed happy hour together.  Now that would have been a good time.  Momma Debi and I could have cranked the tunes and sang our hearts out, party style.  Except, it really would have just been like we were singing into the mirror and why would you do that in a tractor when you could do that in the comfort of your own bathroom?  It just doesn't seem logical.  

Momma Debi and I put up with that tractor and it's reflecting light issue for many, many years.  New combines came and went, a semi was added here, a semi was added there, augers were replaced, grain bins were put up, and yet Momma Debi and I were still enjoying happy hour in Reflections Lounge every evening of harvest.  These are from harvest 2008.  The last harvest of the Reflections Lounge era.  

Here, in the lovely sun lit hours, is Momma Debi with Sister Pister riding shot gun.  They are dumping Dad-o on the go.  It has a nice calm feeling to it because Momma Debi could actually see through the windshield.  

   

And here, we have me and my crazy pony-tail {have I mentioned I have ridiculously curly hair}, starting to feel the panic of the looming sunset.  I probably wanted to scream over the business ban radio at this point, "Ummmm...I need to go home.  NOW.  I have to.  I have a...a...a...stomache ache."  It never worked though.  Except, occasionally Brother would feel sorry for me and help after dark if he could.  Only occasionally.

 

Now this.  This is where I jumped out of the tractor and was truly fearing for my life.  Trying all stall tactics to not have to get back into that tractor knowing that happy hour in Reflections Lounge was imminent.  I'm telling you it was a nightly cause for a panic attack.  If you asked Dad-o, he would probably tell you it was "character building" or something like that.  I like to refer to it as plain old ridiculous.   

Finally, before last year's harvest, that tractor was replaced.  And, Momma Debi was in on the deal.  She's really the one in charge.  So, she said, "The lights better work.  They better work amazing.  They better work so amazing that I will never see myself in the tractor windshield again."  

And, they do.  They work.  It's a good thing too, because a mad Momma Debi doesn't happen very often, but when it does...watch out.  I think it's high time I get out to the field this year and enjoy those working lights.  That is, when it quits raining.  For now, I think I'll just go curl up on the couch.