every life lesson can be learned

Month: November 2014 (Page 2 of 2)

Act Before You Think

You might think I have it wrong…it’s “Think Before You Act.”  Not when it comes to snakes in Texas.  We live in the state that is home to 15 venomous snakes.  One of the rhymes we teach in kindergarten is, “Red on yellow kills a fellow. Red next to black is a friend to Jack.”  This helps you distinguish between a venomous coral snake and its harmless relatives.  Learn it before you come visit.  Well, I don’t want my children standing in the path of a snake visiting our franch trying to remember how the rhyme goes…and getting it wrong.  So, I instruct, if you see a snake, “Don’t think, run.”  Correction: “Get your little sister, and then run.”  So far, fortunately, only my husband has had an encounter with a snake on our franch.  The story goes…  He had been sick all day and of little help with the franch chores.  The only chore left was to close up the chickens for the night and he was looking much better, so he offered to do this final task.  Where was he, I wondered, twenty minutes later?  I found him red-faced, with his shirt soaked in sweat, and completely out of breath.  Seeing him, I had chuckled at first, “What could have possibly happened in a chicken coop?”  A 5 ft long snake stretched out along the nesting boxes and up along the wall, that’s what!   Eeeeeeek!!!  My husband instinctively grabbed the nearest shovel; he thrust it in the snake’s direction yet missed several times, it slithered here and there inside the coop, and then, after several harrowing minutes, he finally killed it. The next day, he and the children went out to identify its remains.  The older two children exclaimed, almost in unison, “Awww, dad, why’d you kill it? It’s not a bad one.”  Indeed, it turned out to be a harmless chicken snake.  It eats chicken eggs, and we have plenty of ’em.  Perhaps, my husband should have first consulted the Identification Guide of Texas Snakes in our kitchen drawer before taking lethal action.  But, little hands gather eggs every morning and every evening.  Sometimes, it’s okay to act before you think.

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We need to stop advertising fresh eggs on our chicken coop just in case snakes can read.

 

Bad Fences Make Good Neighbors

When we were thinking of moving to our franch several years ago, our realtor showed us the fence dividing our land from our neighbors.  We agreed that it’d be the first thing to fix.  “Good fences make good neighbors,” we all knew, remembering Robert Frost’s famous poem “Mending Wall” and Carl Sandburg advising, “Love your neighbor as yourself; but don’t take down that fence.”  Well, we didn’t get to repairing the fence right away, and three years later, it’s actually a little worse.  A bad fence gives you many opportunities to interact with a neighbor.  No doubt, you really get to know a neighbor when you are searching with flashlights late at night in your neighbor’s back several hundred acres for a cow that simply stepped over the leaning fence.  Over the last few years, we’ve learned that it’s nice with one less barrier to getting to know someone.  You may be surprised how much you like your neighbor!  Isn’t it interesting that we may have hundreds of followers on social networks, but not know if we walked by a neighbor in the grocery store?  “Love thy neighbor as yourself” … period.  There’s probably a reason it’s the second greatest commandment.  Let your fence fall into disrepair.

 

The Birds and the Bees Hijacked by a Buck

The kids want to read mommy’s blog.  Since the franch is their life too, they are allowed.  So, I’ll speak in code.  Us parents dread the day that will eventually come when it’s time for the birds and the bees euphemism in the lives of our children.  We don’t want to prematurely tell.  But, we also don’t want it to be learned too late either.  Often, it’s time when children come home asking questions about what was whispered on the school playground.  For those raising children on the farm, the time comes when you realize your kid thinks there’s a breeder named Burt involved for us too.  On our franch, it was time for the birds and the bees when a buck arrived.  Except, he didn’t give us a chance to tell.  His name was “Stinky Pete” and he wasted no time unveiling the truths as soon as he was unloaded from the trailer.  He was ready to re-tell the story over and over again just in case they didn’t get it the first time.  We soon returned him to his owner who reported that Stinky Pete went missing and was maybe later picked up by police, as there was rumor of an unclaimed buck at the station.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he got charged for being indecent.  Tell your children about the birds and the bees before a buck does.

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The Early Bird gets the Adventure

I sometimes wonder when I’ll have done enough on our franch to call myself a farmer or a rancher.  I don’t know that I’ll ever be truly deserving of that title.  For one, farmers are famous for being early risers.  If I need to wake up at 4:30 a.m. on a daily basis to be a farmer, I guess I’ll have to settle for always being a wannabe.  I like to sleep in the mornings until the sun is well up in the sky.  There is though hope for our children to someday claim the title since they like to get their simple morning franch chores done early.  They set their alarms to go off well before me.  One early morning, I was abruptly shaken away.  Our then seven-year old son, out of breath, smelling of fresh morning air, had a story to tell.  Excitedly, he said, “Sometimes the early bird doesn’t just get the worm, he gets the adventure too!”  It happens often that, as I sip my morning coffee, I smile as I listen to the re-telling of my children’s early morning adventures on the franch.  I learn as many lessons from my children as they learn from me.  Wake up early.  Adventures are waiting to be lived.  Don’t sleep through them.

The Other Man

My husband had decided that the way to cut up some downed trees on our franch was with a two-man saw.  Why?  Because, we like to do things the hard way.  So, the search began.  At first, he could only find antique ones advertised.  Laughing, I remarked, “There’s an easy explanation for that – the invention of the powered chain saw!”  One day, as he shared with me his frustrations of only finding one advertised 50+ miles away, it dawned on me, “Wait a second…who do you think ‘the other man’ of the two-man saw is going to me? It isn’t going to be me!”  Thankfully, some pressing issues came up at his job and there was no more talk about this antiquated way of cutting wood.  For some crazy reason, I really want my husband to be happy and accomplish whatever he comes up with no matter how insane…so I secretly took on the search and surprised him with a two-man saw.  So, weeks later, there I was, on the other side of a big log knowing I only had myself to blame.  Most of you haven’t time traveled from the past to today, so let me explain, you need to be in rhythm with your partner for the two-man saw to smoothly cut the wood.  It was hilarious how we just couldn’t quite get into rhythm with each other.  I’d pull, he’d push, then he’d pull when I wasn’t done pulling, so I’d push, and he’d hesitate, and we’d both then pull…  But, we still eventually made it happen while laughing the whole time.  This completely fits how we live most of our life together.  It’s a little awkward, but it works, and it is a whole lot of fun.  This evening, as an arctic blast blows in to our area, we did our family devotions beside a roaring fire with the wood cut when I was willing to be “the other man.”

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Eat Veggies Not Friends

One day our neighbor handed me a magnet that reads, “Eat Veggies Not Friends.”  No explanation as to why was needed.  She knew of the fate of a lamb on our franch.  You may ask, “How can you eat your own animals?”  We wanted to teach our children that if you couldn’t raise your own animals for meat, then you shouldn’t eat meat.  “Don’t be a hypocrite,” instructed my husband.  Our eldest daughter expressed the tug-of-war happening in her heart, “I love that lamb, but I really love meat.”  When you raise your own animal to one day be on your table, you learn to fully appreciate the life that is given for the nourishment of your body.  It gives you another reason for finishing what’s on your plate – if the reality of so many malnourished children in developing countries isn’t enough motivation.  Our children do not whine about how they are too full to finish their lamb dinner but still have room for dessert.  Not a single crumb is left as we remember how we poured time and love into that lamb for the past year.  It is definitely easier on your spirit to mindlessly roll through the supermarket aisles and fill up your cart with chuck roasts, chicken breasts, and pork tenderloins.  But, then you don’t know who to thank.  We can thank Augustus.  Though I must admit, it isn’t easy.  I don’t want to be a hypocrite.  I think I may soon need some recommendations for vegetarian cookbooks…

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Saying Grace with Sincerity

Grace is something we say in our family before every meal.  “Saying grace” refers to the practice of thanking God for the food before us.  It is actually one of the most common forms of spoken prayer and is a tradition among all the major world religions.  I grew up saying the common lovely Catholic grace “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”  Now,  in our family, the prayer of thanksgiving we’ve chosen isn’t written out for us – instead, we take turns thanking the Lord for our food and for His provision in other ways as well.   It is said three times a day and sometimes before snacks.  You know what happens when something is said over and over again, each time similar to the time before.   It’s often expressed without full attention, without thoughtfulness, and even without comprehension of the meaning of the spoken words, and definitely without sincerity.  It was happening in our family – made obvious by the recent comment of our five year old, “The people who don’t believe in God are lucky because they get to eat their food sooner than me.”  Then, we butchered the first lamb born on our franch.  And a lamb who had a name was on our plate.  Bow your heads with me as our family says grace with utter sincerity.

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Am I a Boiled Frog?

I didn’t grow up on a farm or a ranch.   I don’t have any education related to farming or ranching or agriculture.  My degree is in molecular biology and public health.  So often people are surprised with how much I do and am willing to do on our franch.  My husband once referred to me as “a boiled frog in a pot – I slowly turned up the heat on her.”  Most of you know the anecdote that tells of the frog that can only be boiled alive if you  gradually turn up the heat.  If the water was too hot at the start, the frog would jump out immediately.  By the way, contemporary scientists concur that this isn’t the behavior of real frogs, but never mind – it’s a metaphor.   Most of the time the  story is used to warn people of eventual undesirable consequences if they don’t make themselves aware that they’re headed in that direction.  Being compared to a boiled frog was offensive, until I realized it’s truth for me.  I’m thankful we did this one step at a time – I needed to know I could do all of what we do one step at a time.  I couldn’t go from not doing any of this to all of what we do on our franch overnight.  I would have run all the way home to the suburbs.  The American poet Robert Frost cautioned that “all metaphors break down somewhere.”  In the story, the frog doesn’t do so well – it gets boiled.  Where the metaphor breaks down for me is that at the end of all the gradual heating isn’t death…instead it’s where I found a life worth living.  Turn up the heat, I can take more!

Why isn’t Franch in my Dictionary?

My family came up with a new word.  I don’t know if you can do that, but we did it anyway.  We couldn’t quite define what we were doing with our lives with any of the words in the current edition of our dictionary.  The word is “Franch.”  It is both a verb and a noun.  It is when you are not quite farming and you are not quite ranching.  It is like a hobby farm.  But, that doesn’t fit either, because it is way more than a hobby, it is a life.  You do not make any money doing it.  Or at least, you will always be in the red.  And yet you keep doing it.  On a franch, every life lesson can be learned.  I hope you will join me on this journey as I learn these lessons with my family on our franch.

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