While most Farm-City celebrations are held in October, I had the good fortune of participating in a local version of this rural-urban outreach this past week.  The Kutztown, Fleetwood, and Hamburg, Berks County Rotary Club members held a dinner and invited farmers from the community to join them for an evening of good food and conversation.  All dressed up, the farmers enjoyed a relaxing dinner away from home and fit right in with the business and community leaders in attendance.  Everyone wore smiles as the steaming plates of ham and chicken poured out of the restaurant’s kitchen.  The room was filled with laughter and a harmonic blend of voices as stories were shared about life from each individual’s perspective.  Everyone understood that friendship was truly the evening’s main course, and it was being served in heaping quantities.

My role was to offer some personal observations on the future of farming in our county.  With no crystal ball to gaze into, I had to rely on my own vision of where agriculture’s future was going to be in the year’s ahead.  As I looked out into the crowd, there were young FFA members in blue corduroy jackets looking expectantly and enthusiastically from their table, all wondering what their futures might hold in store.  Another table was filled with farmers and business leaders in the prime of life, busily trading comments on current events and barely noticing that it was time for my speech.  Other tables were surrounded by weathered faces and hands that quietly spoke of long years of toiling in fields.  It was a grand mixture of backgrounds; all blended this evening in a deliberate effort to get to know one another better.

The invitation to be the prognosticator for the evening had been one of the first calls I received after accepting the offer by the Berks County Board of Commissioners to become the first Agricultural Coordinator for economic development.  I felt the same pressure that Octorara Orphie or Punxsutawney Phil face every February 2^nd when the world counts on these two famous groundhogs to predict whether there will be six weeks of winter weather ahead, or an early spring.  With three months under my belt as the county’s ag czar, I was already racing to fill in the details of what the picture of the farming would be like.  I am working to make sure that agriculture’s canvas is as colorful in the future as our rural landscape is today, with lots of "green" and "gold" for everyone who plays a part in this vital industry.

It is an easier job to look to the past.  How things have changed for agriculture during the last century.  We transitioned from a country where one out of every four families was involved in farming, to our current statistic where one farmer feeds nearly 140 people.  Through innovation and new technologies, farmers have adapted to modernization over the years.  Teams of horses were sold to buy mechanical-horse-powered tractors.  Equipment has gotten larger and more automated so that one person can do the job of many on today’s farms.  This has allowed the majority of people to find other employment and develop skills in fields far removed from agricultural production.  And farmers have benefitted as well as we use computers and new technologies routinely.

But back to the question:  “What is the future of farming?”  I am a firm believer in the ability of our agricultural industry to grow and change with the times.  While many of us in the farm community have well-earned reputations for being stubborn and set in our ways, we also are willing to try new ideas as we strive to earn a living on our farms.

Competition for the land is an ever-increasing challenge for farmers.  High real estate values and high input costs have hastened the conversion of some farmland as the owners who tilled the soil, sometimes for generations, have finally given up the business.  Thankfully, Pennsylvania is leading the way to preserve the land resources future farmers will need to raise crops and livestock for tomorrow’s consumers.  This is a benefit to all the citizens who live in tthe Commonwealth.

Future generations will not have to worry about shipping in food from foreign countries since it will continue to be grown locally, ground water will continue to be filtered and recharged by the land.  And the landscape and habitat we all love will be captured by artists and photographers of the future.  That’s the picture I see in farming’s future.  I believe in our abilities to grow and provide a healthy economy for both the farm community and other businesses.  But, we need to plan wisely for the future.

Part of the planning must include infrastructure that does not encourage farmland conversion to other uses, and yet balances the transportation and public sewer and water needs of the community.  That is far easier said than done.  The ground that lies in the direct path of future bulldozers is often some of the most fertile soil in the nation.  It is a farmer’s gold.  And once it has been destroyed by highways and houses, there is no bringing it back for food production.  It is gone forever.

What will farming be like for my daughter’s generation, and the next, and the next?  I am certain it will be far different than anything we can ever imagine.  Just as the farmers in the 1950s could never have imagined all of the technical advancements available to farmers a half century later, we cannot predict what agriculture will look like in 2050.  But, like those farmers who have come before us, the next generation will pick up the palette and paint a brighter future for the cornucopia of non-farm citizens who will enjoy their cultivated masterpieces every time they enjoy a nutritious meal.

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The 2008 calving season has started at Deitschland Farm.  It is always a time of excitement, anticipation and anxiety as we await the results of each cow’s nine-month gestation.  Our prayers are answered when no complications accompany the birthing process and we have a picture-perfect calf to add to the herd.

This year, we are calving out more than a dozen first-calf heifers.  In order to make it easier on these new mothers, we used a calving ease bull last spring to serve the heifers artificially.  We have anxiously awaited the first offspring by this A.I. sire to see whether or not he lives up to his reputation for low-birth-weight calves.

My 2008 wall calendar is marked with heifer numbers and their projected due dates.  Our first calves were anticipated to arrive last weekend.  We were pleasantly surprised to find a healthy heifer calf bouncing around the winter pasture with her new mom a full week earlier than predicted by the charts.  It was a special moment when I realized the first heifer to calve in the New Year was a two-year-old whose life was a mixture of tragedy and miracles.

Anna Banana, as I nicknamed her, was one of those stubborn calves that took a wrong turn and entered the birth canal tail first on her birthday.  Her twelve-year-old dam’s intense laboring delivered nothing but distress for both the cow and her human “midwives!”  Her straining left us few choices and only a few minutes to make them.  We decided to sacrifice the cow’s life in order to try to save her baby, or risk losing both of them.

Those types of decisions are never easy ones to make.  Nevertheless, we knew we had to act quickly if we wanted any chance to keep the calf alive.  Working as a team, and with the help of a long-time friend, we performed the emergency operation on the dying cow, pulling the calf from her abdomen and tearing away the life-giving placenta sack that encapsulated the calf inside the cow and which now threatened to suffocate it.

Lifting the slippery calf away from the cow, the umbilical life line tore, ending the connection between them.  It was up to the calf to live or die, and not much time to intervene.  We worked frantically to stimulate the heart beat, holding our breath until the calf’s nostrils flared with its first independent breath.

After what felt like an eternity but was actually only a few seconds, the newborn calf sucked a gulp of air into its rattling lungs.  At the same time, we all exhaled in relief.  The first step toward life was taken by the soon-to-be orphan.  I glanced at the cow as I toweled dry her final offspring.  My heart ached as I watched her strain her head to see her calf.  Her instinct to perform her maternal duties was strong, even in death.  As her heart beat grew weaker, her calf's grew stronger.

The orphan heifer’s breaths were clearer, now, and had transformed her nose from a hue of blue to rosy pink.  With the first hurdle crossed in keeping this calf alive, my mind raced toward the next step.  This orphan would be counting on us for every ounce of nourishment it would need to survive.

We would have to substitute its mother’s antibody rich milk with artificial colostrum and milk replacer.  I raced to the farm supply store to purchase these ingredients and mixed a container full with warm tap water.  I hoped the calf's will to live had not ebbed away in the meantime.

I was relieved when I saw the heifer lying up on her chest and watching my approach to the straw-filled pen where she lay all alone. I held my breath as I held the nursing bottle in front her and eased the rubber nipple into her mouth.  Would she suck?  If not, her struggle to survive would certainly take a turn for the worse.  After a few minutes of uncertainty about the smell and feel of this artificial udder replacement, Anna Banana’s tongue began to work gently and tentatively, and then earnestly and rapidly as the warm fluid flowed into her for the first of many meals.

Thus began a summer spent feeding my orphan heifer.  She would rush to the gate every morning and evening to enjoy her bottle and a back scratch.  She was growing and thriving, thanks to her individualized attention.  Eventually, we allowed her to be part of the herd so that she could interact with the other calves and have as normal a life as an orphan can have.

As her diet shifted from milk to grain, Anna’s dependence on me was lessened as well as the number of bottles I had to prepare.  While I appreciated the break from extra work, I almost missed having her rely on me to fulfill her needs.  I thought about her mother, and was glad that we had succeeded in pulling this calf through a traumatic start to life.

And now, Anna Banana has brought the next generation into this world.  Thankfully, her daughter was not as stubborn as she was at birth.  Anna and baby carry on the pedigree.  All the hours, spent fulfilling my silent promise to a dying cow, were remembered as I welcomed this New Year baby into our herd.  I celebrate, once again, the miracle of life and new beginnings on our farm.

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Now that people are several generations removed from the farm, their ignorance of agriculture continues to amaze me with every passing Pennsylvania Farm Show.  This year was no exception.  On opening day, I was standing in the beef barn as cattle were being led from the wash racks to their stall spaces when I overheard a mother explaining to her young daughter that she had to move out of the way of the pony that was walking toward them.  In actuality, that “pony” was an Angus heifer calf.

I listened as a father told his son to watch for the “minefields” that were being deposited by the animals rather than using the term manure in his conversation with the impressionable child.  While it may have successfully kept the Nintendo-reared son from stepping into the steaming mounds and soiling his sneakers, the father’s terms also confused the boy about the non-explosive nature of what he was being asked to avoid as he walked through the barns.

As we face the challenges of the twenty-first century’s growing population and the narrowing interface between rural and urban areas, we need more understanding and communication between those of us who till the land and those who merely live on it.  While Farm Show makes an annual attempt to educate the non-farm public, it is apparent that the lessons about agriculture need to be delivered far more frequently throughout the year.

What do people know about their food and where it comes from?  If conversations overheard at Farm Show are any gauge, the answer to that question is virtually nothing.  Their direct contact with the people who provide their “daily bread” has been interrupted by progress.  Today, every farmer feeds 137 people.  A century ago, almost every family had some involvement with raising food or a close relative who farmed.  Rather than purchasing their food at mega food markets, customers generally shopped locally at farm markets where they could actually get to know the person growing their food.  Today, farmers’ markets are more of a novelty, but the interest in buying direct is gaining an increasing interest among consumers.  New farmers’ markets are springing up in urban and suburban centers.  This is good news for both the sellers and the buyers who take advantage of this symbiotic opportunity and are learning a valuable lesson in the free enterprise system.

As a farmer, I must admit to being relatively naïve about life in urban.  A recent visit to the Big Apple gave me a better perspective on life in the big city of New York.  There, people live in small row houses that cost more than entire farms in our area.  They shop for groceries on practically a daily basis since their cramped homes and apartments have little storage space.  Unlike their country cousins whose shopping carts are piled high with a week’s worth of groceries, these consumers push mini-baskets through narrow aisles with fewer product choices.  They rely on local markets to provide opportunities to buy smaller portions and ready-to-eat meals that fit their busy lifestyles and their cupboards.

Almost all the food eaten by New York City residents is trucked in from outside the city limits.  No livestock are slaughtered there anymore.  Nevertheless their meat cases are bursting with taste-tempting cuts with prices that made my mouth water as I contemplated the possibility of new markets for my farm’s beef tenderloins.  At nearly $30 a pound, it might be worth the extra effort to capitalize on that retail opportunity.

During my short stay in the bustling city, I fell in step with the rushing crowds as we traversed the concrete sidewalks and hustled across streets teeming with taxis, limousines, delivery trucks and honking cars.  And while visions of higher beef prices danced in my head, I kept wondering how anyone could deliver the mountains of food these city-dwellers needed every day, no matter what the weather or issues back home on the farm.  Some brave members of our farm community have discovered the financial benefits of filling these urban niche markets.  But it takes hard work and perseverance to open these avenues for direct sales of farm products to city dwellers and businesses.

On my train ride back to Berks County, I used one of the trip’s three hours in conversation with Philadelphia commuter who was on the same train.  We both were on the same track when it came to wanting to learn more about each other’s lifestyles.  I found her to be hungry for information about farming, raising livestock, growing fruits, vegetables, grain, and all the aspects of agriculture.  She was confused by what she read in the media, and skeptical of information she heard on the news.   But, she had little recourse in clearing the cobwebs in her mind since she didn’t know where to turn for the facts about farming.  She left the train with a better understanding and appreciation for the jobs farmers perform every day to raise wholesome, nutritious food for the nation.  And for future reference, she had a business card to tuck in her pocket in case she had questions that needed answers down the road.

My daughter Emilie recently participated in a Health and Wellness Expo in Washington D.C. where more than 80,000 people gathered to get more information on nutrition, exercise, and better lifestyles.  Other Pennsylvania beef producers spent the weekend helping to educate the Expo crowd about the benefits of keeping or adding beef to their diets.  The information they provided was well-received because of their direct connection of farm to consumer.  It was a long and busy weekend, but a worthwhile experience that will be remembered by both sides of the farm-city experience.

All of us in agriculture need to do a better job at sharing the message about our industry with everyone we meet.  You’ll be amazed at how closely they listen to your story about food and where it comes from.  Don’t miss those opportunities to deliver the message to city neighbors.  Carry a business card to keep the connection going.  And, at the same time, listen and learn from the people who consume the harvest of our hard work.

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The 92^nd Pennsylvania Farm Show comes to a record-breaking conclusion this weekend.  As usual, it was a week long celebration of our agricultural industry.  There were mountains of mouth-watering food to consume, fine livestock in the barns, prize-winning poultry crowing about their awards, and bushels of blue-ribbon fruits and vegetables to make every gardener envious of the exhibitors’ green thumbs.  The shine on the farm machinery in the spacious halls reflected the faces of youngsters and oldsters who dreamed of driving the tractor or field implement at home.  Farm organizations and universities teamed up to educate the public about our agricultural industry.  All of this excitement was displayed inside our fantastic Farm Show facility with all of its recent renovations attached to the historic complex that has been the foundation of this annual event since the early 1900s.

Farm Show is a magnet that pulls people from all walks of life to our State Capital no matter what challenges the January weather brings with it.  My first memories of Farm Show take me back to my childhood, when I stood gazing up at enormous tractors while holding tight to my father’s hand.  I would stand patiently waiting for what seemed hours as his conversation with friends he bumped into, or dealers who would try to sell him something, went on “forever.”

Finally we would get to the horse barn where equally enormous equine horse power stomped their feet and shifted their rumps as we walked cautiously behind their open-ended stalls.  Their hooves and metal shoes would make the concrete resonate with each step, reminding all of us to stay a safe distance away from their feet as they proudly pranced their way to and from competition in the large arena.  Even though I am several feet taller now, I still feel small when standing close to these gentle giants at Farm Show.  Their steady hoof beats bring the same excitement and well-deserved respect from the crowds of spectators that they did decades before.  Their teamwork and horse power continue to be a major Farm Show attraction.

This year’s expanded Food Court found me joining the long lines of people waiting to enjoy the traditional mouth-watering delicacies that make the Farm Show visit complete: baked potatoes, pork sandwiches, and creamy milkshakes.  Newer menu items featuring fish, chicken, cheese, mushrooms, soups, fruit drinks, sweet potatoes, and the list goes on, made it hard to decide which flavorful food line to wait in first.  January’s Farm Show week is not the best time to start a diet.

However, the one thing you can always count on Farm Show to bring was missing this year.  The week-long onslaught of frigid weather was replaced by spring-like temperatures that gave exhibitors and visitors the rare opportunity to shed heavy jackets, hats and gloves and stroll comfortably inside or outside the Complex acres wearing merely sweatshirts or light jackets.  I even saw one brave soul in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.  This was not the Farm Show weather we have come to expect.

I couldn’t help but remember prior years when twelve inches of snow or more added excitement to the trip to and from Harrisburg.  In the days before four-wheel drive and Interstate 81, the small slopes on MacClay Street would snarl traffic as car tires spun out on the snow-covered road.  People would work together to push stuck cars up the hill to get them out of the way of waiting motorists.

The years with freezing rain were much worse on the nerves and heart rate than the snow storms.  The highways and parking lots turned into skating rinks.  I’ll never forget the first year Mike and I hauled our Hereford calves to Farm Show in Dad’s old cattle truck and what started as rain switched to ice.  We watched a PennDOT truck in front of us bounced off the concrete barrier on an overpass as it slid helplessly on the slick road surface.

Our hazards didn’t end once we finally pulled up to the Farm Show loading dock, however.  The footing for our fresh-off-the-farm calves made their arrival most memorable as their traction and ours disappeared on the ice-covered platform.  We slipped and slid but eventually made it inside the doors without catapulting off the elevated platform or splaying out on the ice.  Those memories are almost comical now, but they were far from funny at the time.  With the mild temperatures and clear skys we enjoyed this year, a whole new meaning may be connected to “Farm Show” weather!

Reminiscing about Farm Shows past is one of the best parts of this yearly extravaganza that brings people from all over the Commonwealth and from other states to experience our state’s farm industry.  It’s a time for renewing acquaintances with fellow farmers whose paths we cross only at this special time of year.  Young people and those of us who are well-seasoned Farm Show folks look forward to sharing stories about the past and catching up on each others’ lives.

This year I met a woman named Emma Cornman Crouse as I was walking out of the large arena following the beef show.  She and her husband were just arriving as most of us were leaving.  Seventy-four-year-old Emma had driven from her home in West Virginia to re-live a favorite childhood memory --- showing “Baby Beef” at Farm Show.  When I had to break the news to Emma that she was a day late to watch the 4-H and FFA junior beef show and market steer competition, I saw the disappointment cross her face.  We started talking about her 4-H experience a half century before when she led her project steer through the same building where we stood that day.

Emma recalled how she had won the showmanship contest two consecutive years --- 1948 and 1949.  Even though her family owned a dairy farm in Cumberland County, and her father showed their registered Holsteins, Emma preferred showing her Angus and Hereford market steers.  Back then, she explained, the club leaders would go to Virginia and buy a load of steers.  Each 4-Her would be given one of those steers to raise and show.  Emma remarked that the steers today are far different than the steers she and her brother showed.  Back then the steers were short-legged and smaller framed.  By contrast, today’s Farm Show market steers would be giants, and they no longer are purchased by the 4-H leaders by the truckload.  Each member purchases the type of steer they like, paying for it individually rather than as a club.

It was fun to hear Emma’s story and I admired her gumption as a young girl showing 4-H steers from 1943 to 1952.  At that time, there were fewer females her age willing to tackle a market steer project, or compete with farm boys.  My hat goes off to Emma for leading the way.  She nearly won the showmanship contest for a third straight year in 1950, but the judge noticed she was chewing gum in the showring.  Emma related that her mistake stopped her from chewing gum for years after that disappointment at Farm Show.

Emma was not the first or last 4-Her to experience the elation of a championship title, or the disappointment of a disqualifying mistake at Farm Show.  The important lessons that Farm Show brings to exhibitors and visitors alike, will last a lifetime.

Like Emma, take time to share those Farm Show memories with other folks.  You never know who will benefit from hearing them.

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Did you have the traditional meal of pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day?  My German heritage has ensured this menu combination is served up every January 1^st, with a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes to round out the day’s fare.  We dine our way toward a year of good luck, or so the superstition goes.

Growing up, I never appreciated this yearly ritual.  The aroma of cooking sauerkraut overwhelmed the mouthwatering smells that poured out of the oven where a pork roast was turning golden brown.  I wrinkled my nose as we prayed thanks for the meal and God’s blessings, but silently wished the sauerkraut would simply disappear.  I hoped my parents wouldn’t notice how small a portion of the pungent, yellow mound of cabbage strings I scooped onto my plate.  I quickly smothered the smell with mashed potatoes and camouflaged the sour taste with morsels of tender pork.  Faced with the choice of bad luck for an entire year or swallowing a mouthful of sauerkraut, I opted for the latter.

As I grew older, my tolerance for the taste of sauerkraut improved.  The fermented cabbage found its way into my family meal planning more frequently than the first day of the year.  I was pleasantly surprised when my daughter Emilie began acquiring a taste for the Silver Floss-potato-pork combo (or whichever brand of canned kraut was in my cupboard).  Perhaps the hope of good luck throughout the year was all the incentive she needed to cultivate her appetite for sauerkraut.  Or, perhaps it was her German heritage shining through.

Imagine my surprise when, as I was doing research for an agricultural education display on the pork and sauerkraut tradition, I discovered its origins were actually half a world away from the land of my ancestors.  Warrior Genghis Kahn found this pickled cabbage staple when he invaded China and stole the idea and large quantities of the wine-fermented diet supplement from the Chinese laborers who were building the Great Wall.  As his armies plundered their way through Europe, they carried with them this Chinese discovery and helped spread its unusual flavor and unexpected favor among conquered nations.  The Germans quickly dubbed it sauerkraut or “sour cabbage.”

I was intrigued by another tale that ocean navigators, like Captain James Cook,  counted on sauerkraut to keep his ship’s sailors free from scurvy on their long voyages around the world.  Linking sauerkraut to the absence of scurvy was fortuitous for those early explorers, preserving their health while expanding their horizons.

What good luck to have discovered this Chinese health food!  Partnered with pork, sauerkraut’s legendary reputation spread across the Atlantic as immigrants brought their favorite recipes as they sailed to the new world.  The “luck” in the green cabbage that the settlers raised, shredded, fermented and stored for meals throughout the year represented the “green” money of good fortune they hoped to find.  The “luck” in the pork on their plates was tied to the fact that pigs “root” forward as they eat, bringing better days in the coming year.

As we start off the New Year, we still enjoy the ingenuity of Chinese laborers who, more than 2,000 years ago, preserved a favorite food and added some zest to their daily rice ration.  Whether or not it is on your list of favorite foods, may the “good luck” of pork and sauerkraut be with you throughout 2008.

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When I was growing up, one of my favorite Christmas Golden Book stories was the one that told the story of the littlest Christmas tree.  In the story, the tiny tree was always the shortest one in the woods.  It watched with envy as its taller, rounder, more perfect companions were selected, sawed, and carried out of the field to adorn homes with every passing Christmas season.  Eventually, this forlorn member of the fir family was chosen by a small child who didn’t care that every bough on the little tree was perfect or that its branches wouldn’t come close to touching a twelve foot ceiling.  Happily, the little tree lit up the family’s living room, adorned with lights, tinsel, and ornaments to help make this small child’s Christmas a memorable one.

For my family, our Christmas tree story for the past two decades has had a similar theme.  Because my work in the legislature found me burning the midnight oil at the Capitol during the month of December during my tenure in the House of Representatives, it was always a mad rush to get ready for Christmas at my house.  My daughter, Emilie, would patiently wait as the days on her Advent Calendar were marked off with few signs beyond that calendar marking the approaching holiday.  It became routine that we would jump in the truck and drive off to buy any tree left on a sale lot as the countdown to Christmas approached.

Amazingly we were always successful in finding a tree.  I convinced Emilie that this was all part of my plan to wait until the last minute to find our special tree.  I told her that we were the lucky people who could give an unwanted pine tree a place of honor.  It would get the same chance as the "littlest Christmas tree" to wear lights, tinsel, and handmade ornaments.  It eventually became tradition to welcome an unchosen tree into our "hectic schedule" home each year.

This year was no exception.  My new job as the Agricultural Coordinator for Berks County kept me hustling right up until Christmas Eve.  Not a single decoration had been hung.  No Christmas tree blinked its warm welcome in our farmhouse, or even waited on the porch as the clock ticked toward Christmas day at a steady pace.  As I left my office late in the afternoon, I worried that this might be the first year our home was missing a key holiday ingredient --- a pine tree to bring its beautiful aroma inside and to help cheer us during this special season.

I drove home a different direction, hoping to find a local landscape business open with a waiting Christmas tree for me to load into my car’s trunk.  If I found a tree, I was bound and determined to squeeze it into that small space and haul it home.  Alas, the lights were out and the owner had gone home to celebrate Christmas with his family.

I drove further down the road and was happy to see a grassy lot that had been transformed into a Christmas tree “sales room.”  I pulled in and looked for signs of life.  The mechanical tree wrapper was silent, and no sales person was in sight.  I walked to the next-door business and inquired inside if the owner knew who was selling the trees on the adjacent lot.  “That would be me,” he said, as he made my day.

I walked through the few remaining trees, remembering the childhood story of the littlest Christmas tree with every step.  I finally selected the shortest, roundest specimen and we shoved it into the trunk of my car.  Paying the man and wishing him a “Merry Christmas,” I headed toward home, happy that I was able to once again bring the traditional last-minute joy into our lives.

As I turned into our farm lane, I saw my daughter’s truck parked close to our farm house’s front porch.  My mind leapt to the most likely scenario that would have prompted her to leave the truck sitting there.  As I backed my car into its normal parking space, I was no longer happy.  I had raced around frantically to find a Christmas tree, only to come home to find my daughter’s smiling face as she announced that she and her dad had wanted to surprise me by bringing home a tree and getting it ready for Christmas day.

My mood turned sour instead of sweet.  I tossed the tree out of my trunk near the pile of broken branches from last week’s ice storm.

After a moment, I realized how far from the spirit of Christmas I had fallen just because we now had two trees to help us celebrate the season.  As Emilie encouraged me to come into the living room to view the shining tree she and Mike had decorated, she told me how they had gone all over looking for a tree, even to the neighboring county, with no luck.

Eventually, she explained, they wound up at a grassy lot next to a business where a few trees were waiting for homes.  It turned out to be the same place where I had stopped a short time later on my way back to the farm.  The tree I had selected was the one that my husband Mike had wanted, but relented and brought home one that Emilie preferred that wasn’t quite as stout and that stood a bit taller.

The tree I brought home took up residence on our front porch.  I used antique barbed wire, old porcelain insulators, and decorated Mason jar lids to spruce up its branches.  Since it would be an outdoor tree where our racing Border Collies would speed past it, its decorations had to be indestructible.  This Christmas tree would wear real pieces of our farm life with no blinking lights to break the darkness of the night.  Its light was the understanding it brought to me in appreciating the true meaning of Christmas.

What started off as an unwelcome surprise has become a special part of our 2007 Christmas memories.  My daughter and husband blessed me with their love and understanding as they tried to make my life less stressful.  I appreciate their gesture of kindness more as the irony of our double Christmas tree story settles deeper into my heart. Even though I didn’t take the time to realize it at first, the true meaning of their love finally melted through life’s worries, cares and its hectic schedules.  Love is what Christmas is about.  And, it all started with the gift of God's son.  May love decorate your Christmas tree forever.

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It’s Friday morning, and thankfully Thomas Edison’s invention has been restored to my farm once again.  Last weekend’s ice storm and all its fury gave us unwelcomed challenges on our farm as we dealt with no electricity for five days.  Being without power forced us to step back in time and adopt old-fashioned methods to care for our cattle and stay warm.  It made us realize what a gift the great inventor gave us when he invented the light bulb.

Thanks to wind, freezing rain, and toppling trees, wire lines came crashing down.  There was no electric power in much of the region.   A few neighbors had generators churning out emergency power so milking parlors, or swine and poultry houses could continue to operate and keep residents comfortable.

On our beef farm, the small generator we had on standby remained quiet.  We anticipated the power company would restore the electric in short order and life would return to normal.  In the interim, our barn’s water fountains were quickly drained by thirsty cattle that didn’t know they should ration their consumption due to the energy crisis we were facing.

Our high tensile fence wires hung coated with icicles.  No pulsating electrical discouragement was carried through the four strands that now sagged slightly under the extra weight of ice.  The fence that I count on every day to keep potentially curious cows on the right side of the fence was no longer working.  I was glad that the fierce storm and its ice discouraged them from venturing too far from their protective shelter.

Complaining about the weather was not an option.  There was too much work to do.  In the aftermath of the storm’s damage, we were thankful that none of the enormous branches that had splintered giant trees on our farms had landed on any buildings.  Miraculously, they had all fallen away from house and barn roofs and lay strewn across the frozen fields and lawns.  The sound of trees snapping under the weight of the ice resonated through our woodland as the domino effect brought timbers toppling down the slopes.

After the storm subsided, my husband Mike fitted the tractor with tire chains and proceeded to push the worst of the branches away from farm lanes and buildings that blocked our paths to cattle that were anxiously looking for hay and water.

The hours since electric had vanished from our farms added into days.  We tried to appreciate the overwhelming task that the utility company workers had before them in returning peoples’ lives to twenty-first century normalcy.  But we were having our own issues with pre-AC/DC farm life.  With each day and each announcement that power had been restored just over the hill, it was more and more frustrating to remain in the dark

On Monday morning, I escaped the cold at home and went to work at the county Ag Center.  The building and the office of the Agricultural Coordinator was spared the power outage.  There was heat, running water, lights, and comfort.  I kept hoping for good news at home throughout the day, but it didn't come.

As I returned home from the office Wednesday evening, my spirits lifted with every new mile of lighted Christmas decorations.  My anticipation of welcoming porch lights at my farmhouse made my heart race, as well as my car!  I almost cheered when I saw our next door neighbors’ homes were once again electrified.  Let there be lights at home, I prayed.  As I turned onto our road, however, my heart sank as the moon silhouetted a still-darkened house where candle flames flickered a dim welcome.

Discouraged and disappointed, I joined my family for yet one more night of discomfort.  As I began to proclaim how hard it was to see power restored so close by and yet not far enough to help us, the village fire sirens began to blare.  My daughter Emilie wisely pointed out that at least we still had our home, even if it was cold.  That may no longer be the case for whomever the volunteer fire fighters were helping that same evening.

During the past century, we have changed the world with technological improvements and inventions.  This week we were humbled by an act of God and reminded of the difficult life farmers of the past faced without electricity.

As we celebrate the Christmas season when God sent his son to light a dark world, remember to take time to pray for the people who risk their lives to help others --- police and soldiers, firefighters and electrical linemen.  Remember, too, the millions of people around the world who face each day without the blessings we too often take for granted.  May you have a New Year that shines brightly and brings light to others.

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To be innovative in the field of agriculture is to be willing to learn new methods and employ new devices in our daily operations.  It requires us to be willing to change the way we do things as farmers.

Innovative agriculture was the subject of a workshop I attended this week that was put on by the county conservation district.  It was a well-attended meeting that brought farmers together for a day of educational sessions to discuss new ideas for the farm industry.  As the lead-off speaker and the new agricultural coordinator for Berks County, I pointed out that innovation is not a new concept for the farm community.  We have, by necessity, adapted and adopted technology in our industry over the centuries.  In the past one hundred years, however, the transformation in the way farming is done has been an extreme makeover!

On the day’s agenda were speakers who shared the latest information on technologies to harness solar energy.  Mother Nature always partnered with farmers in the photosynthesis phenomenon that occurs in farm fields, but adapting solar panels to farm buildings will allow us to capture the sun’s power and put it to work generating electricity.  This idea can have broad application in agriculture’s future and the economic stability of our operations.  Our barns and farmstead buildings are ideal locations for these new tools of the trade.

I was pleased to see so many traditional farmers in attendance, willing to learn about new ways to handle manure and till the land.  A panel of three women provided a female perspective on farming in the 21^st century.  The entire day was stacked with informative discussions, ranging from the history of agriculture to the future profitability of farming.

The workshop sponsors and other exhibitors stayed busy all day answering questions and dialoguing with workshop participants.  A local talk show radio personality was broadcasting live from a corner of the commercial exhibit area, giving participants an opportunity to comment on farming and the idea of innovation for today’s agricultural industry.  It was a wonderful opportunity to share with the thousands of listeners the story about modern agriculture and its creative farmers.

Several call-ins reflected the growing concern by the general public on the future of the agricultural industry.  A few listeners took time to call the radio station to applaud on-going efforts to save farmland and family farms.  A few callers expressed concerns about environmental issues.  One person who was listening to the broadcast actually got in her car and came to the workshop armed with her camera.  She had just photographed a farmer’s barnyard where livestock were standing in mud and manure.  A stream flowed through the fenced-in area, posing challenges for the farmer in preventing pollution and providing an observant environmentalist with a lot to talk about.

While I pointed out the fact that several inches of rain had fallen the previous evening and that frozen ground did not allow the surface water to be absorbed, thereby increasing surface runoff, it was still difficult to avoid commenting on the obvious pollution that was occurring on that farm.  I explained that the Clean Streams Law and the Nutrient Management Act applied to agriculture operations and were written to prevent environmental mishaps caused by sediment and manure flowing into creeks and rivers.  I also explained how Mother Nature sometimes creates challenges with unusual weather events.

The citizen watchdog explained that this farmer’s barnyard always looked like the picture she took, saving her a thousand words to communicate the sloppy stewardship.  I tried to find a positive spot, suggesting the grassed field adjacent to the barnyard was the farmer’s method of filtering the runoff.  She pointed out this was a neighbor’s field.  She also explained she had grown up on a farm and understood agriculture, but she could not agree with the management on this farm.

I called on the professionals from the Conservation District and the Natural Resource Conservation Service to listen to this person’s story and look at her digital camera shots.  Their jobs are to help farmers find solutions to these environmental challenges.  If the problem persists, it is also their job to see that the laws to protect water quality in the Commonwealth are enforced.

Sometimes the solutions to water quality issues aren’t easy to adapt to Pennsylvania’s historic farmsteads where buildings are located adjacent to streams.  For early settlers, this was their innovative way of providing essential drinking water supplies for their family’s livestock.  Over the centuries, these same barns have seen a growing number of animals housed within their walls and congregating in the barnyards.  Even though they no longer rely exclusively on streams for livestock water needs, having installed wells and waterlines in the 20^th Century, our old barns remain located where they were raised.  Farmers in the 21^st Century are dealing with building decisions of the past and wrestling with pollution remedies for the future.

Innovation in agriculture has resulted in technologies we now take for granted as everyday tools.  Artificial insemination, no-till farming, plows, tractors, combines, soil testing, feed testing, and the list goes on.  As farmers accepted these modern ideas, we prospered and were able to expand our operations.  Life became a bit easier.  But there are always new challenges on the horizon to command the attention of researchers and future innovators.

Today’s agriculturalists are building on the choices pioneers made in the past and creating new opportunities for farmers in the future.  As we blend the old with the new, we need to be aware that 98 % of the population is counting on us to make the right decisions for the health of our industry and the environment as we continue to be innovative farmers.

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It’s been a week since Nellie, my daughter’s seven-year-old Border Collie, made a nearly fatal mistake of swallowing pieces of a rubber bungee strap.  Her brief moment of canine chewing pleasure had resulted in an emergency surgery to remove the blockage in her small intestine.  Fortunately for her, the operation was a success and she is now on the fast track to full recovery.  Her biggest challenge is resting and having the patience to heal. That is not as easy as it may seem, for dogs or people.

I keep looking at the calendar where we are checking off ten days of twice-daily antibiotic treatment and a special dietary regimen to ensure Nellie’s well-being.  Keeping her from romping with her Border Collie siblings has necessitated that she remain isolated from her playmates.  They naturally miss her participation in the daily yard games of the “pack.”

Her absence has altered the pecking order temporarily, and some sparring for the alpha spot has occurred.  But only a few more days of recuperation are on the veterinarian’s prescription for Nellie’s post-surgery recovery plan and that will be a relief for her pent-up energy, the other dogs’ dominance struggles, and my sanity!  While the past seven days have moved along swiftly, I will be glad when all of our lives return to a more normal routine.

My eager anticipation for the end of this canine crisis reminds me, however, how quickly time passes by when life is filled to the brim with chores and challenges.  Like Nellie, most of us forget to find time or patience for the important factors in life --- the things that bring healing and happiness to our daily routines.  It seems like it was only yesterday that I left the state Capitol Building in Harrisburg to return to the farm and its fulltime workload.  How quickly 365 days have sped by.  While much has been accomplished during that time, a lot remains on my to-do list at home.

My family and I took the time to celebrate my one-year departure from the legislature by going to a local, quiet family restaurant for dinner on November 30^th.  It was a special treat to be able to slow down for a few hours, share time with each other and take a break from the demands of farm life.  We walked out of the restaurant satiated with good food and conversation.  It was a great way to mark the year’s passage and life’s transitions.

Of course, my fulltime on the farm has been interrupted by a new task in life.  Coordinating agriculture for the county of Berks has been filling my weeks since the beginning of October.  Days and weeks are flying by as I dive into the never-ending needs of keeping the farm community moving forward in a favorable direction.  The job is both challenging and rewarding.  It is giving me the opportunity to assist the agricultural industry in a new role.  There is no shortage of work to do.

Even though this unanticipated diversion of my attention away from my farms is fulfilling, I am working to stay connected to the daily operations here at home.  I realize that my personal goals can include both off-farm improvements for the agricultural community as well as a renewed focus on my family farms.  Time management will be the key to success once again.

As I prepare to close this week’s blog, I am receiving a nudge from Nellie as she attempts to gain my attention and shift my focus from the computer screen to her dark brown eyes.  Her head is resting on my lap as she pushes my arm away from the keyboard, signaling that it is time for her morning meal of special dog food.  I am thankful that there is life in her eyes again.  She reminds me how much we should appreciate every day of our existence.  It is a gift from God and another opportunity to serve.

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I am not a fan of this time of year.  Turning the clocks back turns me off!  I dislike the darkness that comes with shorter fall days and leads us into the winter months.  The time change alters the cycle of my canine alarm clocks as well.  Even though they are Border Collies with intelligence levels that rank them near the top of the I.Q. scale for dogs, they have not figured out how to turn their biological clocks back an hour from daylight savings to standard time.

Over the years, I have come to count on their gentle wakeup calls rather than the shrill beeping of my traditional electronic alarm clock.  They seem to know precisely when to time their trip up stairs to begin the ritual of another day on the farm.  My four-legged dream-stopping dogs have it figured out down to the second on when their intrusion will be welcomed or met with a pat on their “snooze alarm” heads and a sleepy command to “go lay down and stay out” as I drift back to sleep.

Their sometimes boisterous bedside manners find them pouncing on the mattress for a split second, and then bounding down the stairs with a chorus of barks that ensure my wakeful attention. Perhaps sensing the need for a more quiet approach on other days, they simply stand and stare into my face, sometimes lifting a paw to poke the cozy comforter and coax my eyes open.

Because the shift to standard time confuses my Border Collies’ sense of timing these wakeup calls, I find myself oversleeping that first week of shorter daylight hours.  Eventually all of our systems adjust to the time change and we are back to a normal routine and no longer do the dogs and I make mad morning dashes to get to work on time.

On weekends, my canine sentries have learned to hold off their revelry for an hour or two, giving me the opportunity to sleep in on Sunday and the occasional Saturday.  But, if I make the mistake of stirring slightly on those rare lazy days, my Border Collies are on full alert and ready to start the those days with the same boundless energy they exhibit Monday through Friday.

Nellie, my daughter’s seven-year-old instigator of the wakeup call ritual, was missing this week from the canine morning crew.  She has spent several days in a veterinary clinic hanging onto life.  Thankfully, with the help of a skillful surgeon, she should survive her life-threatening mistake of swallowing pieces of bungee cord.  The rubber strap had become the centerpiece of a Border Collie tug-o-war contest last Sunday afternoon.  After three of the participating Border Collies tired of the game, Nellie began chewing the winner’s “prize” into pieces.

On Monday, Nellie was not herself.  A call to our veterinary clinic was made, and an appointment scheduled the following afternoon.  Nothing earlier was available, we were told.  In the meantime, Nellie was obviously in escalating distress.  She restlessly patrolled the perimeter of our lawn, grazing on grass and vomiting.  She quit eating normal food and drank little water.  Her lethargy was uncharacteristic for a dog that was always playful and ready to work.

Unfortunately, she had swallowed pieces of the “chew toy” she had torn apart the previous day.  I suspected they had failed to pass through her GI tract and were wedged inside her intestines where they threatened to snuff the life out of this vibrant dog.  Her eyes told me she was fighting to hang on, but losing the battle.

Nellie’s condition escalated into an emergency situation.  Emilie gently lifted her dog into the capped bed of our little Chevy truck and transported to the animal hospital.  The diagnosis upon her early morning arrival was not good and confirmed my suspicions.  Her blood pressure was too low, and her temperature was ten degrees below normal.  Her kidneys were threatening to quit functioning and her vital signs were ebbing.

Emilie tearfully relayed the veterinarian’s x-ray results and his list of options --- operate and remove the blockage, put her to sleep, or do nothing in which case the dog’s intestines would rupture.  Options two and three were discarded instantaneously, and option one required Nellie to be rehydrated, put on antibiotics, and stabilized before surgery.

This strong, well-conditioned Border Collie came through the complicated surgery like a trooper, but will have a long road back to recovery.  She will have to “rest” for several weeks, and that will be a hard adjustment in the routine of this working dog.  Allowing time to heal is essential for her future longevity.

As I file this blog, Nellie remains under the watchful eye of the veterinary professionals, and we are optimistic she will be home on the farm this weekend.  Our daily visits to the clinic to check on her and let her know we haven’t abandoned her are helping to keep her condition and strength improving.

In the aftermath of all emergencies and near-tragedies, hind sight is always 20:20.  I should have intervened and taken the bungee cord away from the playful dogs.  I should have anticipated that, unlike the hundreds of stones, sticks, and assortments of other things swallowed by my Border Collies, that this “toy” selection would be disastrous.  But, I didn’t.

Instead I have learned another valuable lesson in life.  I am grateful for the skills of trained veterinary professionals whose talents have plucked life back from death’s door for many of our farm livestock and for this lucky dog named Nellie.  On our farm, the Border Collies are more than just four-legged cattle-herding helpers.  They are part of our family.  All of us were impacted by the possibility of losing Nellie through a careless accident.

Even though we deal with life and death on a regular basis in the livestock business, the chance of Nellie --- my daughter’s “best friend” --- dying was blow to all of our spirits.  She had gone from a playful, exuberant dog to one barely hanging onto life in less than a day.

While some may feel it is a waste of prayers to ask for healing for a dog, we know that many folks voiced this request in Nellie’s behalf this week.  We are thankful that she has survived the surgery and seems to be on the road to recovery.  We anxiously anticipate her return to familiar surroundings on our family farm where bungee cords will no longer be within fangs’ reach in the future.

 Lancaster Farming's guidelines for posting comments on the website ask that you follow the Golden Rule, respecting other opinions and being truthful and civil.  Do not post any statements that are illegal, defamatory, obscene, threatening, or plagiarized.