Farmers Deserve to Grumble

Many people are becoming more pessimistic now that April has arrived and we still have not received the rains we need.

Growing up in a large city, I never thought much about the necessity of rain to produce food, fill the lakes and ponds and keep the earth green and lush. When it rained, we wore our raincoats and galoshes to school and that was it.

My husband grew up on a farm and understood about the need for moisture on a regular basis and how the people and the land suffered when rain was not available.

After Ray and I were married, I learned about the urgent need for moisture to produce vegetables and fruits, and to provide water for livestock and other animals. One aspect of this situation that had escaped me, was the need for rain to prevent and douse fires. This season has culminated in many damaging fires with the loss of lives, homes, businesses and in its wake, has left thousands of acres of scorched land.

When I was confronted with some of these facts, I recognized the truth in one of Ray’s favorite sayings: Farming is the greatest gamble on earth. Farmers are unable to control the weather and the price they will receive when marketing their products, whether cattle or vegetables.

If prices are high when farmers plant, then the crop costs more to produce. This happens frequently and then the price drops when the producer is ready to sell.

I do believe that few persons have a true appreciation for those who raise our food. If the price of food goes up, we complain that we can’t afford to buy those products. Rarely does the farmer benefit by a raise in the price of his crops.

My only experience of living on a farm was during my childhood when I spent time with my grandparents. My maternal grandparents lived in a very small town in Texas. I remember going into the garden with my Grandma and helping her pull up green onions and gathering some tomatoes for our evening meal.

She also allowed me to help her gather the eggs from the henhouse in the late afternoons. I never was allowed to milk the cow, not that I wanted to, but I spent many hours watching my grandpa milk their big Jersey cow.

My other grandparents actually lived out in the country, just a few miles from the town where Mother’s parents lived. My dad’s folks raised most of the food they consumed. In addition to raising vegetables, they killed hogs in the winter to provide bacon, ham and sausage for the family.

Watching my Grandma Stephens sit in her cane-bottom chair while churning milk into butter and buttermilk was a fascinating event for me.

As a small child, I was delighted when my grandma told me about the time she was churning and had to leave the kitchen for a short period of time. When she returned, she said my dad had put his little black puppy in the churn and every few seconds the puppy would jump up with his head just above the rim of the churn. She said the puppy had bits of butter all on his head and face.

Apparently, my dad just stood there watching the scene, while laughing all the time.

4-8-2009
#429