When I was a little girl, I absolutely loved growing up on a farm. Going for rides in the combine in the fall, taking care of the sheep and chickens, bringing grain in to town with my dad in the truck. I loved all of it. I was around 10 years old when I decided that I wanted to marry a farmer, and I wanted to raise my kids on a farm.
Finding a farmer to marry wasn’t a hard thing to do in Iowa. In fact, all I had to do was join our high school FFA (Future Farmers of America) Chapter and that turned out to be more effective than joining an online dating site. A.J. had all the qualifications I was looking for, he loved Jesus and he loved helping his dad on the farm. I was sold, and after dating through high school and college, we got married and started our happily ever after. We moved in to our farmhouse, I started working for the local grain cooperative, and A.J. ran heavy equipment and helped his dad on the farm. Our life was turning out just like I had planned when I was 10 years old.
When I was 10, I saw the “shiny” side of farming. I saw the fun combine rides through the field for an afternoon, not the 18 hour long days that my dad spent living in the combine. I saw the adorable baby lambs being born in the barn, and not the feed bill that came to raise them to market weight. I saw the quarter my dad gave me when we would haul grain to the elevator to get M&M’s from the candy machine, but not the dwindling price of corn when he picked up the check for that grain.
Now that I’m grown up and A.J. and I are starting out on this farming journey ourselves, I’m starting to see the sacrifice side of farming. I’ve seen the empty side of the bed while A.J. works countless hours into the night in the fall. I’ve seen farmers at the elevator pick up grain checks that won’t nearly cover their farming expenses for the next year, but they put together their crop plans regardless. And I’ve seen that cows come before countertops.
If you’ve checked out the Farmhouse Tour tab on the blog, you can see the little updates I’ve done around the house. Nothing major, or super expensive, just adding my own style to our home. Since the day we moved in, I have been dreaming about putting new countertops in our kitchen. We have beautiful white cupboards and an excellent layout, so we don’t need a complete kitchen remodel, just new countertops (I use the term “need” lightly here, it’s a strictly cosmetic change for my taste). I finally decided that instead of putting it off any longer, I would get a quote for new countertops and as long as it wasn’t too outrageous, we would just bite the bullet and do it. I wanted to be able to enjoy our home while our kids were growing up in it, rather than save for when they were all grown and moved out and then do the updates. I put together my inspiration board, set up an appointment with a designer, and was all set to put my plans in to motion.
Dreamy, right? I was going for a crisp, clean feeling, but with the added rustic farmhouse charm. White cupboards, white & gray quartz countertops, with rustic wood accents.
The night before the designer was scheduled to come, A.J. asked if I wanted to ride along to look at some cattle. He had been talking about buying some cattle of his own for a while, and he found some a couple of hours away that he wanted to look at. I’m always up for a little extra quality time, so we hopped in the car with his parents and took off. 5 hours and 275 miles later, we were suddenly the proud owners of 23 bred cows, ready to calve any day.
I still met with the designer the next day, and put together a quote, but in the back of my mind I knew nothing would come of it. You see, being a part of a farming family, certain things have to give. There is always something to fix, something to improve, or something to invest in. There’s the emotional heartache when one of your calves that you’ve poured several hours and several dollars into just doesn’t make it. And there’s the realization that the cows will always come before new kitchen countertops.
