Tradition

I love traditions, which is no surprise as I am a Lutheran German farm girl. This Christmas season has held some old traditions, new ones, and even some CHANGE!

This past weekend I got to go home and help my mom in the kitchen. While I have already learned her secret to tasty pies, I had yet to tackle her famous homemade crescent rolls on my own. So armed with a mixing bowl and rolling pin, I set to work. Thankfully mom was there to guide me through growing yeast, kneading the dough, and determining when exactly the rolls should come out of the oven. It was a great chance to learn an old tradition that I'll definitely share with my family in the future.

I also made Oreo balls for my little brother. Having discovered these cookies last year, I soon became an expert in this easy recipe. It is officially the first recipe I have committed to memory, not that it's all that difficult. From the guys' reactions I know this cookie is going to become a holiday tradition of its own.

"The only people who like change are babies, and even they cry about it." I have no idea who said that quote, but I agree. This year for the first time, our Christmas tree is made of plastic instead of pine. We also are having a real Christmas breakfast instead of pop-tarts, and the presents are already wrapped (traditionally this is done on the 23rd or 24th). The only set back with the fake tree is that mom keeps having the need to water it. These are little changes, and I don't mind them, though I like to tease my mom. It got me to thinking about agriculture. This industry is full of traditions. It's one of my favorite parts, but sometimes we need to embrace change. Now I'm not saying to pitch out all the traditions, but take an honest look at your practices. Perhaps it's time to make some adjustments. After all sometimes change is a good thing although feel free to cry about it.

'till the cows come home,

Ellie

Freezing your rear end off



Sure, it looks pretty, but it means it's freezing cold out!

 It finally happened; it snowed here in Lincoln, NE over the weekend. I had mixed feelings about it, nothing is prettier than snow, but also nothing is worse than snow boots with a hole in them (and a promise not to buy new shoes until 2012). This morning as I got up early to head to work, though I definitely missed home, and more specifically my father's habit of starting my car and warming it up after he fed cows in the morning. As I froze in my car the few blocks to work, I thought about complaining. Only then did I remember the moments I have been significantly colder.


Growing up my brothers and I had a love/hate relationship with snow days. It was great to be out of school, but that much snow also meant that bunks had to be scooped. This process meant bundling up, and one wasn't appropriately dressed until the only eyes were visible. Then we would trek out to the lots and begin to clear each feeding trough. As I worked, I steadily grew warmer in my winter gear, so I began to peel off my hat, gloves, scarf, coat, until I was down to coveralls and boots. Usually by the time I had shed my clothing we were finishing up our work, and mischief could begin. So at my most vulnerable state one of my brothers would take the opportunity to tackle me into the snow. Now sufficiently wet and cold, I would put back on my layers and proceed to seek my revenge.

Winter in the city is different. Snow days don't happen as often, and there are no bunks to scoop. The ability to take some cold comes in handy for the treks across campus, but there is no work to keep me warm. Farmers and Ranchers don't get snow days. Like postmen, they are out caring for cattle no matter what Mother Nature gives them for weather. So I believe I'll keep my complaints to myself (and grab another layer to keep warm.)

'till the cows come home,

Ellie