Erica Louder

I live on a dirt road that comes to a dead end at our house. It’s about a third of a mile off the highway. Directly to the west of where our road and the highway junction meet is a sugar beet dump operated by the regional sugar beet cooperative.

He knocked on my door at 7:30 a.m. Muting the cartoon, I answered still in my pajamas with my newborn in my arms. My neighbor, Jeremy, eyeing me, said, “Your cows are out. Is your husband home?” No, my husband is not home and nowhere near cell service. I tried to not sound bitter.

Farming is rarely a one-man job. Very few can get by without some sort of outside “help.” Even with thin margins, having a hired hand or two makes a huge difference – if not financially, it sure helps with your quality of life.

March was Women’s History Month, and as a woman and a lover of history, I fully engage in the celebration of our vibrant and remarkable history. A social media post from popular blogger Carrie Mess – author of Dairy Carrie – reminded me not to forget about the history of women in agriculture. This got me thinking about how women in agriculture shaped my history.

Despite the labor pains of farming, a farmer eagerly lines up to experience it again and again, season after season.

It is like describing a car to a caveman – there is just not a point of reference to build common ground. There is nothing else like experiencing a total solar eclipse.