Unraveling the Spool
a minor existential crisis, harvest, and lots of Big Sky Country pics || July newsletter
Our combines are rolling, the bins are filling with grain, and the heat is sweltering. This all means one thing: it’s harvest in central Montana. I’m down to the wire on getting in a July newsletter—my mind has been all over the place, unable to stick with one story for longer than a few lines.
I thought about writing about my college-aged nephew asking me if I miss city life and the mind spiral I went into, trying to answer his simple yes or no question. (Spoiler alert: it’s not a simple yes or no answer.)
I suppose it could be a simple yes. At times, I do miss happy hours and take-out down the street. I miss the grocery store not being an hour away. I miss pavement and sidewalks and less flat tires. I miss the idea of a husband who comes home for dinner every night at the same time. And I miss weekends.
But the more complicated answer is, of course: no. Wishing for city lights outside my kitchen window instead of wheat fields means more than just changing the view. It means wishing to wake up each day with someone else besides me in bed. It would mean hoping different children would run down the hall and ask me for snacks.
It would mean not watching Rhett drive a combine in his ninth harvest with his papa in the buddy seat, whose in his 40th year of harvest.
There’s no way to unwind the choice of where I live without unraveling the whole spool.
I thought about writing about my Instagram sabbatical, which started as just a few days' break and has now turned into eight weeks. And now I’m not sure how or when to go back.1
I stopped and started writing a story about the challenges of being a farm wife during harvest. I tend to stress myself out, anxiety creeping in before harvest even starts. I know all the feelings and struggles ahead, and I borrow trouble from tomorrow instead of worrying about today.
But so far, this harvest hasn’t been as challenging as in years past. Maybe it’s because my kids are getting older—I no longer have a baby on the hip. Or maybe, it’s because I’m off of IG, not comparing my summer to everyone else’s.
Each summer, I tell myself to make the best of harvest—to try and enjoy it. And maybe, this year, I am.
Likely, it’s a combination of a lot of factors. Including the fact that harvest is still fresh and the days and weeks haven’t piled on top of each other, my loneliness and exhaustion stacking up—stealing snippets of conversations with Rich in the field or in the few waking minutes he’s home each day.
In the end, I wasn’t able to weave together one story. But I suppose that’s life; it’s not one storyline. It’s all tangled together—the good, the hard, the questions we ask ourselves, and the answers we try to find.
Maybe it’s not what I miss about city life. It’s noticing and appreciating the different threads woven into the fabric of my story that wouldn’t have been there otherwise.
It’s learning to love the life I live.
Farm Happenings
We finished haying in mid-July, just in time to start harvest. Last month, Rich predicted we would end up with around 5,000 round bales, but the final number ended up being nearly 7,000 bales. There are still many bales to be trucked home, but some will be sold to nearby farmers and ranchers.
We have been harvesting for over a week now. So far, we’ve harvested some of the winter wheat, all of the yellow peas, and the winter canola. There is still plenty of winter wheat to cut and several other crops as well. Harvest will keep going for the next few weeks.
All of our grain is stored in bins and grain bags until this fall and winter, when it will be loaded back onto semis and taken to the grain elevators. Then it will be loaded onto trains and onto its final destination.
In some of the fields, we choose to drop the straw out of the back of the combines instead of chopping it. The straw is made into bales and will be used as bedding during calving this winter. In other fields, the straw is chopped coming out of the combines. The residue serves as a beneficial cover and returns nutrients to the fields.
Each night, I bring dinner out to the field. All the combines, trucks, and tractors stop, and we eat in folding chairs in the middle of the field they are cutting. This year, I’ve been pulling our camper into the field with me to use as shade and to haul the coolers of food.
Yesterday, our calves sold on a video auction. It’s a bit nerve-wracking watching the calves be bid on since the sale of our calves is a big portion of our annual farm and ranch income. But the calves all sold really well, so everyone was happy about that. The calves will stay with the cows until October when they will be shipped in semis to the buyers.
All of the steer2 calves were sold to a high-end feedlot in Idaho, which has bought our steers for the last few years. The calves will be fed until they are ready to go to slaughter and will become the beef you order at restaurants and buy in the grocery store. Some of our heifer3 calves were sold to another ranch in Montana, one that is actually not too far from us. They will be raised to become mama cows. We keep a majority of our heifer calves to be bred and sold next year, and some we keep to replace cows in our own herd.
Up next: finishing harvest and preparing for fall seeding.
Lately, I’m . . .
Reading: It. Goes. So. Fast: The Year of No Do-Overs by Mary Louise Kelly. This book started out strong, but it lost steam for me about halfway through when it felt the story focused more on her career rather than her family. But I loved these lines: “I can’t think of another relationship in one’s life where you actively root for the other person to outgrow you. Where the whole goal is for them to surpass you, to separate. That’s the fundamental tension of parent and child. You can’t wait for them to stop being so needy every second, and then they stop needing you every second, and it feels like a stake to the heart.”
Also, I flew through Inside Out by Demi Moore. Going into this book, I didn’t know much about Moore’s life, but it was an interesting read, and it had me making a list of 80s movies to binge this summer. First up: Ghost.4
Watching: the series, The Diplomat on Netflix. I devoured this season and can’t wait for the next one!
Wearing: shorts and graphic tees while cooking and delivering dinner to the field.
Cooking: a lot of field meals! I tried a new recipe for chicken fajitas in the slow cooker, and they were easy and a hit with the crew!
Baking: chocolate chip cookie bars from this cookbook for the harvest crew.
Writing: a couple of articles for Treasures State Lifestyles magazine and an essay in a writing workshop I took this summer. TBD, what will happen with the essay.
Singing: along to this song when I need to pump myself up.
Listening: to a wild and unbelievable podcast, Scamanda, per a recommendation from my friend, Laura. I binged this series about a woman named Amanda, who faked having cancer for YEARS. Years!
Buying: so many groceries! It takes a lot of food to feed 15-20 people each night. I bought these and hid them in the pantry as a treat for myself.
How’s your summer? What treats are you hiding in the pantry?
I’ll be back next month! Until then, enjoy the rest of your summer!
Or truly, if I even want to.
A steer is a male animal that has been neutered.
At birth, a female calf is often termed a “heifer calf.” And a heifer that is pregnant for the first time is known as a “bred heifer.” Upon giving birth, heifers become cows.
I know I’ve seen parts of this movie, but I’m not sure I’ve ever watched it from start to finish!
Beautiful words! Thank you for giving us a little peek into your life. So fun! Also, thank you for the Scamanda recommendation. I am addicted!😳
I love this, Stacy! Your images are so beautiful and I love what you’re saying about all the things you want to write about and how that’s real life. Maybe that’s even more true in the summer months. I feel like my attention has been so divided with my move and having all the kids home and exploring and... and... Thanks for sharing the beauty of your real life!