Blogs

’Twas a bright sunshiny day, so this happened sometime between the snow seasons. I-84, westbound a few miles east of Biggs Junction, which is about a hundred miles east of Portland, Oregon, Leo and I were on our way to the Portland area, each driving a truck and trailer loaded with hay.

I haven’t had time to do very much farming this summer, but I have spent a lot of time on a zero-turn mower trimming and maintaining the farm. Here at the house, I decided to take a different approach to taking care of the yard this year instead of the twenty-plus-year-old Craftsman 50-inch-cut riding mower.

Bart has a lot going on. He grows barley, wheat, sugarbeets and hay on his southern Idaho farm. He’s got a little feedlot where he finishes a couple hundred head each year. He buys, sells and hauls about a gazillion loads of hay annually. He’s as conscientious a neighbor as you’ll ever find.

When I was 13, my dad bought a farm. It was a little over 100 acres and was mainly watered with the use of handlines and flood irrigation.

See if you spot any connections in these three news blips and one commentary:

I survived, among other things over the years, riding home from Preston, Idaho, 16 miles to Mink Creek atop bagged grain that was loaded in the back of Dad’s 1948 or ’49 Ford F-3 pickup.