Talk to the hand

… Or, rather, let the hand do the talking.

When I was a kid I was always amazed that my father's hands seemed to be in a constant state of healing. Now, I too, have hands that are looking a bit more experience tested and well worn. Perhaps C's theory of wearing leather gloves when working is a reasonable one. I'll have to consider that more in the future.

And they'll know we are farmers by our tans

P is becoming a Neapolitan farmer. While the photo perhaps doesn't show it well, you'll just have to trust us that there are three distinct shades of skin tone in the picture.

After reviewing the Neapolitan Klondike Bar commercial on Youtube, I realize now that the shades of color are not in the right order. I guess the reader will have to use even more of their imagination. While you're at it though, imagine nicer muscle tone and less upper arm hair – P would appreciate it.

Meanwhile, C is developing a great sock and sports-bra tan line and is really looking forward to evening things out this 4th of July while spending a little time on the wonderful beaches of Lake Michigan.

The roof is on fire

Actually, the house roof was not on fire, but you may have been able to cook an egg with reasonable efficiency.

The cute little house we live in has had a pretty horrible roof for some time now (leaving substantial numbers of shingle pieces in the yard after windy days) and P's aunt and uncle who own the place decided to replace the asphalt shingles with a steel roof. After a bit of consultation with us regarding color selection the process got under way.

In many ways the entire process is very much standard protocol for Ortman projects. Some perhaps unique aspects:

1. Start by consulting with each other and spit-balling various ideas about how to handle the trickier aspects of the project. During this time reflect on past, similar projects that involved metal sheeting or roofs in general.
2. Determine what pieces of farm machinery and supplies are best (ab)used when undertaking the project. In this case a manure spreader and loader tracker took center stage, though we also used part of an old automotive leaf spring.
3. Begin the project slowly with a few fits and starts as all people learn their role and grasp back in their memories a decade or so since the last time they helped a relative or MDS with working with metal sheeting/roofing.
4. Start each morning reviewing OSHA rules, checking safety equipment, and … just kidding, I can't even hold a straight face while typing.

Anyway, both of us have gotten into the work and have been helped out significantly by P's first cousin once removed and, of course, P's uncle whose taking charge of the project. We spent one day ripping off the dry, dead asphalt shingles, getting down to the cedar shakes below. Then, the next day, we started putting up the metal sheets over top the shakes attaching with screws. By the end of the day we had about half the roof recovered.

Truck

We've owned it now for a little while, but never posted a picture. The truck is not without its problems, but for right now it gets us around and provides one more measure of legitimacy to our lifestyle. Next step, gun, dog or horse....or cat.

Off the deep end

Digging up the root of a plant and eating it is not necessarily a crazy thing to do, need I point out our friends the carrot, or beet. However, today I embarked on a journey we'd like to keep on the down low, at least with regards to our community on the Great Plains.









Today, after destroying hundreds of Burdock plants on the edge of our woods (they're noxious weeds after all) P decided it was time for a new approach. Perhaps led by a quote from his youth, "If you can't beat 'em join 'em" or one from graduate school, "To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy" he decided to eat burdock, and tricked his wife into doing the same.






You have to understand that around here: people. don't. do. that. Yes, we eat, even things from the ground. But we don't eat random stuff. Stuff branded as noxious weeds. Stuff with weird, claimed medicinal or therapeutic attributes. We kill weeds. We grow corn and soybeans and eat things from the grocery store like God intended and the market demands. Thus, we're keeping this on the down low for the time being.

P labored digging out the root, scrubbed it very vigorously (with stainless steel wool), chopped it and included it in a meal of roasted root vegetables with baked walleye and a fresh green salad. The outcome was, well, underwhelming. The root tasted fine, but was too woody and tough. Not exactly a fine dining delicacy.  Lord knows, we've got plenty more juvenile Burdock plants to retry with, but this experiment ended with very nutritious and buttery burdock root tossed on the compost pile.  Oh well, just some sweat, time and enthusiasm lost.

We went toe to toe with South Dakota sensibility and we lost. Lesson learned.

Gone in 60 seconds

When P was a kid, there were many occasions where he longed to ride in dad's hod rod "Spra Coupe" [sic]. With it's sleek lines, aerodynamic design, 4-on-the-floor, and what seemed to be the basic skeleton of wings.  Additionally it had really cool controls that allowed the driver to pull a lever and lift a wing which led a small boy to dream of a delightful blend of race car and flapping winged aeroplane.

Today, P got the pleasure of driving this dream as the job was spraying the venerable herbicide, RoundUp, on a field of recently drilled soybeans.  The spraying went reasonably well, though a bit of the sheen of the boyhood dream wore off in the process.

The first thing to note is that this isn't the machine I sat in while day-dreaming in the machine shed.  The original was a (permanent) convertible, this one a sort of T-top coupe design – supposedly an improvement, but a whole lot goofier looking.

The second is that power steering really is quite nice.  These types of Spra Coupes are wrist breakers as that single front wheel catches on ruts, rocks and other things snapping and spinning the steering wheel hard and fast enough to make you think you're sticking your hands into a fan.  Luckily, P still has all 10  digits in working order.

These are but small nitpicks when you're truly living the dream.

From a distance

While working to "do alfalfa silage" we had reason to climb on top of the silo at P's parent's farm. The reason was because P messed up and plugged the tube through which the silage is blown up into the top of the silo. Long story short, we needed to climb to the top of the silo to unplug the tube and clean up some of the silage on the roof of the silo. As a result we saw a world blue and green. Later, we decided to climb the windmill at our farmyard and take a picture of our quaint, little home. Enjoy.

A run in the rain

So I finally decided to sign up for a road race. I haven't been running regularly (well, regularly about once a month), but I hoped that signing up for a race might inspire me to run more often. It inspired me to run about once a week. The race was a fundraiser for a local menno church camp: Swan Lake Christian Camp.

I did not sign up for the marathon nor the half-marathon, but instead opted for the 5.2 mile which is about the furthest I have run in MONTHS. I just wanted to finish under 50 minutes, and managed to pull off a 45:34, so I was satisfied and had fun doing it.

Gratuitous Sheep Shots

While we're a little bit frustrated with a pair of punk sheep that insist on leaving the electric fence confines we've defined for the herd, our hearts are generally melted when we spend any time with the sheep. To that end we thought that you too might wish to have a moment with our sheep.


We're starting to learn differences in our sheep, they seem to have individual personalities, but let's not get carried away, they're still sheep.

Currently the sheep are trimming the yard beside our house closest to the road so that we are quickly becoming known in the neighborhood as the crazy sheep people from out East. We embrace this notoriety.