Somehow I've gotten out of the habit of writing, and I think it was a really good habit to be in. Looking back I am pretty sure that most of my best writing was during some of my lowest points in life, so my lack of need for cathartic rambling is probably a good thing. I also don't have a direction for this post, so it probably won't be published.

Life has been...up and down. I'm really starting to realize what the farming thing means in terms of our lifestyle, trying to stretch ourselves between two places and for Jon, two jobs. Trying to coordinate his days off with when the crops might be ready, and then they're not because it rains, or something breaks down, or whatever. Packing my kids, pets and horses up to spend a week or more at the farm, then getting up there and realizing I forgot the dog food or Josie's "buppy" (blanket). Our dog's spay appointment got rescheduled three times because our projected schedule kept changing.

The rhythm of farming is all I've known my whole life. Plant in the spring, hope for rain (unless you're still planting), hope the weed emergence and wind cooperate enough to be able to spray at the right time (another tricky thing when we live two hours away!), wondering which disease will be prevalent in which crop this year, driving down prices. The smells of flowering wheat, freshly cut hay and ripening grain mixed with diesel fumes.

I relish the time spent up at the farm, getting to see my children experience some of the same joys I did as a child (albeit sans livestock). Seeing my dad, my husband and I and our children interacting together around a shared job is the realization of a lifelong dream.

But then there are the drawbacks. Scheduling, as mentioned above. Deciding whether or not to drag the menagerie of animals up to the farm because who knows how long we'll be there. This fall the greatest challenge for me has been the feeling that I'm straddling two communities. I rarely do anything social up at the farm because I'm farming. A quick trip to the elevator or a rainy day supper at the pizza joint is about it. My social community lies at my home address, not my hometown anymore.

At the same time I find myself time and time again unavailable to develop friendships in my new community. The kids were invited to five birthday parties this fall, all of which had to be declined because we were farming. We haven't been to church since I don't know when (July, I think), because we're either at the farm or the kids have happened to wake up with fevers the Sunday mornings we are home.

I keep hearing about how busy kids are these days, what with full days of school and full evenings of activities afterwards. I adore the fact that we "aren't that busy;" my kids get up on their own schedules, we eat every meal together, every day, be it at the farm or at home. Meals in the car are virtually unheard of. But ours is a different kind of busy. I predict it will become busier as my dad retires and more of the day-to-day management is up to us. It may become easier as the kids get older and can help out more, but then what of any activities they'd like to be in? It remains to be seen.

I do know that the ability to farm is a privilege that not many people get to experience these days. To know the work, the gamble and the long process involved in growing our food is something that's incomparable. For me it's a connection that goes back not only to my great-grandfather who homesteaded our farm, but to my ancestors in Norway who were also farmers but knew something needed to change for them to be able to survive (13 kids couldn't all take over the family farm, right?). To continue that tradition has been on my mind since I was a young child.

So I (we...my husband isn't a passive bystander) will continue to weigh the costs and benefits of our lifestyle, not only for me but for the whole family. It's a tricky business. And that's kind of an anticlimactic/blah ending, but I haven't written for a while. So that's about all I've got to say about that. ;)