Erica Louder

He stayed up past midnight to fertilize the pastures because according to the AccuWeather app, rain was supposed to start by 8 a.m. Perfect timing to dissolve the pellets. My iPhone weather app didn’t show any rain expected until the next evening. But he claims the AccuWeather app is always more accurate. 

I didn’t marry a farmer, but I am married to one now. There is a difference, if ever so slight. When he chose to purchase that first cow, all I could do was shake my head and laugh. I knew he had some ambition to farm life, but I did not realize the depth of that ambition.

If someone were to ask what kind of farm I live on, after maybe a moment’s hesitation, I would have to answer a mud farm. I live on a mud farm.

What is the difference between a farmer and a rancher? The answer may seem obvious – the farmer raises crops, and the rancher raises cattle. But here in southern Idaho, the line separating the two is pretty blurry.

Despite all my pretenses to the opposite, I wasn’t a real “farm kid” growing up. My parents brought home the bacon, but it didn’t come from the farm. I never milked a cow, but my brother told me to not have a cow when he got my goat. As a kid, I didn’t feed chickens, but I was prone to counting my eggs before they hatched and rarely had my ducks in a row. And, if you asked my mom, my room was always a pigsty.

We have a yearling heifer that always finds the hole in the fence. As a calf, she would snuggle next to the fence for a sunny nap and wake up on the other side. She would bellow and holler at her mama, who would in turn bellow and holler at us.