beans

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

To a farm kid the word beans means, soybeans. Plain and simple.

Green beans and baked beans and kidney beans were called by their full names. The name beans was reserved for soybeans.  As farm kids, we spent a lot of the summer thinking about beans. And not always in a good way.

Those cute little, you-can-swear-that-you-can-see-them grow beans,  turned in to the hottest, longest, most-likely-to-make-you-want-to-take-a-swipe-at-your-little-brother-with-a-hoe summertime task.

Our family called the chore pulling weeds but I've also heard it called walking the beans or hoeing beans. 

Whatever you called it, it was a hot and sweaty task.

In retrospect, I can't believe how much we complained about the job. In the time we spent dragging our feet and doing the math of how many rows apart we could walk and still reach the weeds with our hoes we could have finished for the day before the sun was blindingly hot and we weren't speaking to each other.

The goal was to kill the weeds in the field that competed with the beans for sunshine and nutrients and choked out the beans and attracted bugs and reduced the yield. A byproduct of pulling weeds was seeing the beautiful rows of beans with nary an offending weed peaking over the top of the beautiful rows of soybeans.

Weed control has changed dramatically since the 1970s,  with the help of chemicals and more sophisticated equipment, but that doesn't stop me from judging a bean field by its weeds when I pass by.

A field of beans is one of the prettiest sights in Indiana - as long as you're not standing in them with a hoe.

knee high by the fourth of july

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

Dad - July 4, 2011. Boone County.

I'm not sure how the "knee high by the fourth of July" idiom started, but as a kid I loved showing off our corn fields to our urban friends that celebrated Independence Day on our farm.

I can't remember a time when the corn was not taller than not only my knobby knees, but the knees of the adults. I remember feeling quite smug that our corn was so tall - that clearly we had done something above and beyond to make it so. As an adult, I know that sunshine and rain and hard work and the bank were responsible for how tall it was.

As any farmer can tell you, a good deal of growing crops is in the preparation - being ready to plant when the time is right - equipment ready to roll,  the right mix of seed corn and fertilizer and labor. And weather. It's always about the weather.

While we kiddos had plenty of chores and responsibilities around the farm, our involvement in planting was typically minimal. I remember stacking the precious bags of seed and driving them to the waiting planter. In retrospect I'm glad that I didn't have the chance to goof up sowing seeds.

Planting season is where the farm fiscal year starts. All of the cash literally goes in to the ground in seed costs, fertilizer and equipment. There is a small window to get the seeds in the ground and start praying for rain - not too much rain, of course. My farm friends and family visibly relax when the planting is done. 

As you can see from the photo this field has not tasseled yet,  which is the real July 4th goal - but that doesn't quite roll off the tongue, does it? This Spring was particularly wet (the rainiest April since 1895), and planting was late. Only 30% of the corn crop was planted by mid-May. 

The director of agronomic research for Weatherbill Insurance Co., Jeff Hamlin, estimates Indiana could see yield losses this year of between 137 million and 203 million bushels of corn. He tells The Indianapolis Star that would amount to a financial loss for farmers of between $960 million and $1.42 billion.

year of the soybean

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project. 

The theme of the 2011 Indiana State Fair is: Year of the Soybean.

How Does a Soybean Became a Corndog?  has been my working title for this project. I've had fun explaining that soybeans are often used as feed for cattle and swine. Thrown in some soy oil and soy milk and you've got a meal.

And celebrating the rich agricultural history of our State Fair most certainly involves food. I love talking about food! A panel of judges and readers of the Indianapolis Star were charged with the daunting task of choosing the signature food for this year's Fair.

This year's contenders are:
Deep-fried tofu on a stick.
Three generous cubes of tofu, rolled in a crisp coating, deep-fried and served on a stick with a spicy dipping sauce.
Where's the soy? Tofu (soybean curd) with a soymeal coating fried in soybean oil.

Soy-marinated beef on a stick with sesame-ginger soy-infused sauce. Chunks of top sirloin are spiced up with a sweet chile-garlic marinade and served on a stick with a sesame-ginger soy sauce for dipping.
Where's the soy? Top sirloin from soy-fed cattle marinated in soy sauce.

Bacon-flavored pork burger. 
Bacon-y pork patty is topped with Indiana-made barbecue sauce from Shoup's Country Foods.
Where's the soy? Pork from soy-fed hogs.

Grilled pepperjack cheese on sourdough.Toasted sourdough bread with plenty of spicy pepperjack -- made in Indiana at Deutsch Käse Haus in Middlebury.
Where's the soy? Cheese made from the milk of soy-fed dairy.

Deep-fried ice cream.
Reminiscent of a  popular dessert at a Mexican restaurant, this crisp/melty treat is topped with chocolate, caramel and whipped cream.
Where's the soy? Ice cream made from milk from soy-fed dairy cows with a soymeal coating fried in soybean oil.

The winner will be announced on July 15, but all of the items will be available during the fair.

Thanks to the Indianapolis Star's Jolene Ketzenberger for the descriptions of the items. Click here to see Michelle Pemberton's video recap of the tasting.

chickens

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

 Poultry Barn, Indiana State Fair, 2010

We raised chickens for a few years, but I don't remember much about them, other than they were no fun to feed and the memories of butchering them. The idiom, "running around like a chicken with it's head cut off," has real-life meaning for me.

I do remember my duck. Around Easter each year the Danner's Store in Lebanon would sell baby chicks and ducks that had been dyed pastel colors. They were housed in the back of the store next to the shelf full of Little House on the Prairie and Nancy Drew books. I have a memory that the chicks were in a playpen and made quite a racket.                                                                                                                                      

Miraculously, one year Mom said yes, when we did our annual begging for one of the little fluff balls of poultry. My siblings chose chicks and I picked a duck.

We took them home and started comparing our purchases - the chicks were cute as can be and were amenable to being held. My duck was a little more obstinate, but I defended it staunchly. 

Weeks passed and the astonishingly, the pets thrived and fit right into the world of the chickens we already had. My duck was pretty independent and looked awkward as his new feathers grew in around the dyed ones. He could have been a poster duck in the ugly duckling category.

Adding fresh water to the container for the chickens to drink was part of the nightly chore of feeding them. One evening I got the bright idea to 'teach' the duck to swim in the water pan. He took to it, well, like a duck to water. Imagine my shock when I went to care for the chickens in the morning and found the baby chicks had followed the duck into the container and drowned. It was a sad sight, their little pastel bodies floating in the water. 

I'll admit that I felt a little superior to my siblings in the fact that my duck was smart enough to survive. Of course, it never occurred to me how the story would end. Let's just say that the duck left home one evening with a bottle of Dad's homemade wine in the car of one of Dad's friends. 

As kids we loved to visit the Poultry Barn at the State Fair. I'm not sure if I'm remembering the details correctly, but there was a little conveyor belt that the baby ducks rode on to land in a trough of water - I loved it! 

Somehow on our annual visits to the State Fair my parents managed to keep us from the Midway, but on the way out of the Fairgrounds we were allowed to dart in to the games area and pick a plastic duck floating in a plastic pond. The duck had a number on the bottom that corresponded to a prize. I remember always being disappointed in the prize,  wishing I could keep the plastic duck instead. I still head to the duck pond booth each year, hoping for the big prize.

tractors

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

 

Tractor Parade, Indiana State Fair, 2010

The farm I grew up on was fairly small and our equipment fleet could be counted on one hand, but they were all green. We were a John Deere family, through and through. 

The farm that my parents bought in 1967, and Dad still lives on, came with a John Deere B Series tractor and that was the one that I drove most often. I was a pretty scrawny kid and had to use one of my legs and a foot to jam the tractor into gear - the gear box was on the floor, in front of the seat, while the other foot was on the clutch. It's amazing that it all worked and I didn't tumble off.

My tractor chores involved moving wagons full of corn to the bin and empty ones back to wait for the combine to fill up, repeat as needed, and mowing the corn stalks after harvest. Moving wagons felt stressful to me - you had to have everything lined up perfectly and timing was everything and generally their was a grizzled neighbor or a little brother watching. On the other hand I adored the solitude of mowing stalks. I could look back and see my progress and felt like I was doing something substantial - cleaning the cow barn didn't bring the same sense of satisfaction.

Best of all I loved that Dad mounted a radio on the tractor. I didn't have a record player and we didn't listen to much music at home. I could turn the radio up and sing at the top of my little lungs. I still know all of the words to the 'Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog' song, my favorite to belt out.

Parade, Indiana State Fair 2010

I always try to be at the State Fair in time for the daily parade. The parade features lots of fun stuff, but I'm all about the tractors. I've been lucky enough to hitch a ride in the parade the last few years. You are given the instructions to wave and smile - ha! Try and stop me! Riding in that parade is one of my favorite experiences of the year.

oink

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

I love this snapshot. It was in a pile of family photographs, mixed in with pictures of children in rows on the steps of the Spitznogle Home Farm and vacation photos.

I wonder what made these pigs special enough to take a photograph? This was in the era before digital cameras and one hour photo processing. I like to write my own stories around old photographs. I imagine that it was a prized litter for a 4-H project. Or that one of my uncles was setting up his farm with his new bride after returning from the war. Or my dad sneaking the camera out of his mom's desk, proud of his barn cleaning task.

While I'll never know why the photo was taken, I do know that raising pigs has been a big part of my extended families farming business. Both sides of my family are based in Cass County. Back in the 60s it was safe for Mom to take me to meet the Greyhound Bus on the highway. I would eagerly board the bus with my little flowered suitcase and Nancy Drew book tucked under my arm and an hour later Grandma Leona would meet me at the bus station in Logansport.

We had a routine of stopping at a restaurant for smelt - small fish that were battered and fried to a crispy goodness. I'm not sure whether I loved the smelt as much as I thought I did or if it was the thrill of being in a restaurant. After we arrived at the farm I would scramble to change clothes - traveling outfits were not the same as playing in the barn clothes, after all - to find Grandpa and my uncles. I loved tagging along on as they did their chores and teased me. 

Pigs and their surroundings have a distinctive odor. I will forever equate that smell with visiting uncles and cousins and laughter and sunshine.

I also have fond memories of pigs at the Indiana State Fair - and not just the pork chop sandwiches. 

I always take time to oh and ah over the new piggies - aren't they darling?

 Swine barn, Indiana State Fair

The Swine Barn on the Indiana State Fairgrounds is beautiful and grand. It was built in 1923 and as modern and sanitary. as possible with its concrete floors, brick, steel and tile building materials.

The architects of Arts and Crafts building were J. Edwin Kopf and Deery — also built many of the other buildings on the Fairgrounds and several commercial buildings and schools around town. The style of tapestry brickwork and bands of tile were more typical for houses than commercial buildings. The whimsical hogs head sculpture was molded in terra-cotta — a new and popular building material for the time. The swine medallions are carved from Indiana limestone and many of the buildings feature whatever is appropriate for the building.

Make sure you take time to look up at the building when you're at the Fairgrounds this summer before you run in to see the World's Largest Boar - there is a lot of history in that building.

farm kids

Nora will use this blog to tell stories of her childhood on the farm and her urban adventures in preparation for the Farm to Fair project.

Nora at five, Beth four, J.R. three, sister Ann was a few months from joining us.

I love this classic farm scene. The fact that I'm holding a sandwich is a bonus. 

Both of my parents grew up on farms, but this was the first place they lived that had room for farming activities.

My first memories are from living on that farm.

We had two cows - which against Dad's advice, I named - Popeye and Janie, for the cartoon character and the local host (with Cowboy Bob) of the show that showed cartoons. We didn't get to watch a lot of television, so anything I saw made a huge impact on me.

We didn't grow any crops there, but had a huge garden. I remember tons of eggplants and tomatoes. Let me tell you, there aren't any finer vegetables for lobbing at each other than those two. I remember Mom and Dad being mad at us, but eventually joining in the fun. 

I'm not sure what we prepared with the eggplant - I don't think I was introduced to eggplant Parmesan or eggplant lasagna until I was in my thirties, but the tomatoes were canned on blindingly hot days in the form of juice and whole tomatoes to be used in ox tail soup (I'm sure the Popeye and Janie's were part of the soup) or chili. 

Even though I'd read the book, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, I never had a friend green tomato until the 2009 State Fair, coincidentally, "The Year of the Tomato." I'm hooked.