Mail Call: November-December 2008

By Grit Staff
Published on October 2, 2008
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Grain bins on an open prairie can resemble castles rising up towards the skyline.
Grain bins on an open prairie can resemble castles rising up towards the skyline.
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Erin Neufeld humored her nephew by playfully mistaking combines for bumble bees.
Erin Neufeld humored her nephew by playfully mistaking combines for bumble bees.
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Mincemeat Cake, like shown in the January/February issue, prompted a flurry of letters about mincemeat recipes.
Mincemeat Cake, like shown in the January/February issue, prompted a flurry of letters about mincemeat recipes.
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The Southdown sheep breed was developed from the Babydoll Southdown, not the other way around.
The Southdown sheep breed was developed from the Babydoll Southdown, not the other way around.

You Married a Farmer?!?

You married a farmer? You!?” an old friend recently asked incredulously.

This is Year Three on the farm for this former city-dweller, actress and globe-trotter. The adjustments have been … interesting.

About a month after arriving at the farm, my mother-in-law asked if I wanted help with my flowerbeds. My response was, “I have flowerbeds?” Later, while she worked those newly discovered beds, I decided to tackle using the lawn mower – giving myself whiplash and my mother-in-law a good laugh in the process. It may still be a while before I attempt to master any of the larger farm equipment.

In the beginning, I found it difficult to remember the names of various pieces of farm equipment and buildings. When my husband would tell me he’d be in the Quonset, I’d spend at least 20 minutes looking for him on the tractor, in the workshop, or in the field, wondering the whole time what exactly a Quonset was. Now I know it’s that rounded building down by the tractors.

My 2-year-old nephew and I were walking around the yard one day, and he started asking me the names of various machines. I entertained him by making up names for them: a giraffe pole (auger), mini-castle (grain bin), etc. However, when I referred to one machine as a giant bumblebee, my nephew looked at me and solemnly stated, “No, Aunty Erin. That’s a combine.”

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