Chopping Silage

We were busy at our place last week, chopping feed to last the cattle all winter.  It was a pretty long, uneventful week with relatively few hiccups.  The boys (and I) enjoyed spending so much time out with the men.  We brought lunch every day and Kenyon helped run the dozer with his dad.  It's crazy to think that this is his fourth time chopping feed.  The first time I brought him down to the silo he was just barely a month old.  Time flies.

The Pioneer Woman I am not.  My meals are hearty and filling but not much to look at.  That, and it's just impractical to transport and drink out of mason jars.  Let's get real.  We use water jugs.

Hour 3 of chopping feed.  It adds up pretty quickly...

Of course, he had to check all the nuts and bolts and make sure everything was kosher.

This is out in the corn field.  The cutter runs along, chopping feed and dumps the feed out of the tall spout into the bed of the truck. 

The truck driver dumps the feed into the silage pit...

...my husband smooths out the feed so it can then be packed down tight. 

Kenyon loves to ride the dozer with his dad. 

Back and forth, back and forth.  Packing silage.

Why pack down the feed, you ask?  The entire goal of storing silage for feed is to decrease the amount of oxygen (thus the repeated packing) and increase the acidity of the pile.  This increases levels of beneficial acids such as lactic acid.  This lactic acid in turn is then in turn transformed into a volatile fatty acid (VFA) and utilized by the animal.  (See?  My education was not a complete waste!)

Is your head spinning?  Here's the take home message: Packing silage helps ensure that you are providing the best feedstuffs for your animals.  Not packing your silage is the equivalent of purchasing a new vehicle but not filling the tires with air.  What the heck?  If you're going to do something, do it right so you get the full benefit out of it!

More Than A Hobby

Please bear with me - I'm going to brag a bit.  

I'm a great woodworker.  (Provided I have the time, the right tools, no children around, blah, blah, blah.)  

Do you know why I'm a great woodworker?  I had the best teacher.  Ever.  

When I was in junior high I spent many days of my summer vacations at Larry's shop, honing my skills and soaking in all of life's little lessons.  I have no idea why he let me work with him; I was an awkward little girl with crooked teeth, frizzy hair and too many questions.  I slowed down the most simple of tasks by checking and double checking measurements over and over.  I took away his valuable time when he could have been working on projects by himself, 100 times quicker.  

During our summers together we built quite an array of projects - saddle rack, saddle blanket rack, picture frames, a book shelf and a few other odds and ends.  I am so thankful for our time together.  He gave me an appreciation for woodworking that I otherwise wouldn't have had.  He made my high school shop classes a breeze.  To this day, when I am stuck in a meeting I find myself doodling furniture plans and dreaming in shades of red oak, cherry and walnut.  

He was a wonderful teacher for me.  And now it's time for him to go Home.  If you could, say a little prayer for my wonderful teacher, great friend and as-good-as grandpa, Larry.  

I'm not sure how you adequetly say 'thank you' when someone helps shape your life so significantly.  Until then, I'll keep doodling furniture plans...  Thank you, Larry.  God be with thee til we meet again.

Friday Night Fun

We were hanging out in the shop on Friday evening when a little (we thought) pop-up thunderstorm rolled in.  

It all started out innocently enough.  But doesn't it always?  

It was just a little water...

And then there was just a little dirt...

But then you have to wash the dirt off your hands...

And then there was probably some dirt on his shirt, so he had to wash that off too...

Don't ask how he lost his boot; he didn't know.  I asked the same thing.

But then of course he needed to wash off his leg, his foot, his entire body.  Really, he was just trying to help me out in the bathing department, I'm sure. 

When you say your wedding vows you utter the phrase, "in good times and in bad."  

This was one of the good times.  One of the best.

Nearly two inches of rain later, he was stripped naked, thrown into his car seat and taken home for a proper bath following his impromptu shower.  What a wonderful night this was.  He turned three years old roughly 5 hours after this occurred.  I'd say he spent the last hours of his two year old self pretty perfectly.