Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

harvest, community, and some other stuff 🔥 || July 2024 newsletter

Jul 31, 2024

One of the biggest worries during harvest is a fire. One tiny spark can cause a field or equipment to go up in flames. The fields are dry, and the wind can carry a fire through miles and miles of open prairie. We prepare with trucks loaded with water and a tractor hooked to a disc to plow through a fire if needed. We move the fire equipment from field to field, making sure it’s never too far away.

We were finishing dinner in the field on Saturday evening when I noticed smoke billowing over a hill. I asked the group, “Does that look like a fire?” Everyone turned to look, and they immediately started making a plan. The guys loaded into several vehicles instead of their equipment and started heading toward the smoke.

My sister-in-law and I finished loading the food, tables, chairs, and kids into the back of my pickup, and we started driving toward the fire. The closer we got, the bigger the smoke was, and I could hear the guys on the radio telling each other which end of the field to go to, where the fire was moving. They were calling directions on what equipment to bring and where to go. I heard Rich say the fire was in the neighbor’s field, a field that sits next to our house. Seconds later, my father-in-law said the fire jumped the road and was in our lentil field.

My heart raced as I approached the burning field, unsure what to do or where to go. I knew I needed to stay out of the way and be able to drive off quickly if needed.

Within minutes, the field was filled with tractors with discs plowing around the fire to make a line for it to hopefully stop. Water trucks came down the road from other farms, and many people stood close by, ready to help.

I stood by, feeling helpless, praying they would get it contained. Soon, a neighbor started walking away from the field, steadying a man I didn’t recognize by his arm. I ran over to them, asking if he was okay. The man asked for his inhaler, which was down the road in his semi. I ran toward his truck, grabbed his bag, and brought it back to him. One of our employees pulled a lawn chair from the back of my pickup, still loaded from dinner in the field, and offered him a seat on the side of the road.

The smoke continued to die down, and the flames were extinguished. After a while, the fire died down, with smoke billowing up from little hot spots throughout the blackened ground. Everyone in the field putting out the fire came out and stood together—nearly 40 people—talking about the fire and how harvest was going for each of them so far. The nearest fire department arrived a few minutes later, but the fire was already out.

Standing there, my shoulders finally relaxed, and warm fuzzies bubbled in my stomach. I thought of how all the farmers and their families stopped their work to come and help fight the fire without being asked.

Rural life can be isolating; the distance between neighbors and the intensity of the work doesn’t often allow for social time. Community looks different when you’re not surrounded by pavement and next-door neighbors. But seeing everyone working together to help a neighbor was a reminder of what’s good about rural life and our community.

Farm Happenings

It’s harvest time! We started harvesting a couple of weeks ago and will be going for a few more weeks. We had a heat wave last week, with temps reaching 108° on Wednesday. The extreme heat pushed all the crops across the finish line, and almost everything is ready to be cut at the same time. 😬

I’ve been bringing dinner to the field every night, slowly working through my harvest meals list. At some point, I’ll probably start repeating the favorite meals. I ordered these special bags, specifically made for walking tacos, and they were a hit. On the menu tonight: French dips.

Up next: more harvest! 🌾

Things I’m Loving . . .

After wearing the same tennis shoes for almost six years (not for running, mind you), I treated myself to a new pair. I can’t believe how comfy they are! I’m not sure if it’s because I was so used to my old pair with zero cushion left or if they are actually that comfortable. And they are super cute. (All my kids said so.) I wear them to the field because Crocs don’t make the safest shoes for harvest.

Last month, I shared how excited I was to read this book, but it was a miss for me. I flew through The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, not knowing what to expect when I picked it up, but I was pleasantly surprised. I then followed that with another “meh” book, The Summer Pact. It was a quick read, but I didn’t love it. In my quest to read books by rural women for some research (and because I enjoy them!), I finished and loved Claiming Ground. The writing was beautiful, and the memoir took place near my hometown in Wyoming, which there aren’t many books about. I loved picturing the places she described because they were already familiar.

“Do you think everything your children do is about you? If you keep raising them thinking everything they do is a reflection of your mothering, you’re going to be miserable.”

But vacationing with a one-year-old, three-year-old, and five-year-old sounded more daunting than relaxing the more I thought about it. The stuff, the expense, the already borderline impossible single-mom life (only without the comforts and familiarity of home) … it would be way too much to do on my own.

After months of her asking, I took Allie to get her ears pierced last weekend. I ordered these earrings for her to wear when the piercings are healed.

A t-shirt for my fellow rural “go-fers” (IYKYK).

Trailblazher shared a post with an excerpt from my article in their summer issue.

I snapped this photo last week, which inspired me to write about how I sometimes feel left out during harvest but that I get to see harvest through my kids’ eyes.

Farm to Table

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