Thanks and Giving turned a year old this week.  Our twin Hereford heifers arrived last year and were named in honor of this special holiday.  Their first birth anniversary day was much different than the day they came into this world.  Cold rain and muddy pastures welcomed them into the harsh reality of farm life 365 days ago.

We had spent the day at my parents’ farm and got home just before dark to feed and check the herd.  While other families settled in for a warm comfortable evening with bellies filled with turkey and all the trimmings, Mike and I each grabbed a calf and began guiding it toward the barn and a waiting bed of warm straw.  The twins’ mother hurried along beside us, in front of us, behind us, “mooing” her concern and letting us know she was watching our every move.

Once they were out of the rain and wind, the twins took turns nursing as the cow licked them dry.  I sloshed back through the barnyard to the fence as Mike finished feeding the rest of the herd.  The cold rain put a damper on the day, and made me shiver as I thought about the fact that this frigid weather was just beginning the winter season.  It was quite a rough winter, with lots of snow, ice, and cold.  Summer temperatures tend to melt away memories of the challenges four-foot drifts, ice-crusted pastures, and frozen ground present to farmers from December to March, and sometimes April as was the case this year.

The older I get, the less I like cold weather.  If I could hibernate through the cold months of the year, like a bear, I would.  Unlike bears, however, I prefer my den to be 70 degrees and inside my warm house with a fire blazing in the wood stove.  But, when you farm, staying inside when it’s cold is not an option.  There are always things that have to get done and hungry mouths to feed.

This year’s Thanksgiving, with its warm temperatures, was a treat.  I didn’t mind spending the morning at the barn as my dad and I replaced a broken window pane on the west side of the windows under the forebay.  A pesky pigeon had crashed into it, causing pieces of glass to fly everywhere as the lucky bird flew off unscathed.  The missing window pane was forgotten while the weather was warm and mild.  But, as this week’s pre-Thanksgiving cold rains reminded me, winter weather is fast approaching.

I had measured the window’s empty space and had picked up a replacement pane at the hardware store earlier in the week.  I held my breath as Dad removed the metal brads, scraped the old glaze off the frame, and gently eased the new glass inside the wood window frame.  It fit perfectly.  Now all we had to do was replace the triangular –shaped nails that held the glass in place and glaze around the edges.  I was happy the weather cooperated and the temperature outside was nearly sixty degrees since the glazing compound doesn’t stick when it’s below forty degrees.

Working the glazing putty between my fingers and then rolling it into a long, worm-like piece of goo, I handed the white stuff to Dad.  With putty knife in hand, he showed me how to press the glaze into the edges and smooth it with an easy motion to form an angle that kept the glass in place, sealed the wood frame from damaging rain drops, and filled the air space between glass and wood.  Once we finished the new glass pane, I found other windows that needed some attention before the cold winds blast against the barn windows.

We could have kept glazing for hours, but the turkey dinner was almost finished.  We called it a day, with Dad reminding me to get the glaze painted as soon as possible.  If the warm weather cooperates, I may be able to get that chore done before spring.  Unfortunately, the weather forecast is calling for a dramatic drop in temperature in just twenty-four hours.

I enjoyed spending the morning learning yet another lesson from my Dad.  There have been countless lessons during my lifetime that he has shared with me.  From him I learned about farm chores and equipment repairs.  After five decades, he is still teaching his farmer daughter new skills that I value and will pass along to my two-decade-old daughter, Emilie.  Even though Dad’s finished section of window looks far-better than mine, I am proud that our combined efforts have once again sealed in the barn’s warmth and it’s ready for winter.

I shifted my attention from outside work to the farmhouse kitchen where the aroma of the finished turkey filled every room.  I joined my mother and daughter in putting the finishing touches on our meal and filling every available space on the dining room table.  The good food is a gift from God, and its scrumptious preparation is a gift from three good cooks.  Those culinary lessons from Mom were shared with me and Emilie over the years, along with her special family recipes.  These, too, are important skills to pass along to the next generation.

As a family, we sat down to a traditional Thanksgiving feast.  Our table welcomed Emilie’s college classmate and boyfriend, Austin, who had tried his hand at glazing windows, but knew enough to stay out of the kitchen until it was time to clean up the dishes.  Soon he will head back to Kansas State University to finish up his formal education, but his life’s lessons will continue with each new day.  While he may never need to use the window glazing lesson on a Kansas barn, I bet he’ll never forget what he learned this Thanksgiving from a well-seasoned Pennsylvania farmer.

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As I look forward to Thanksgiving next Thursday, I am reminded of the many blessings that are bestowed on me and my family every day.  At times, I take the good fortune we have in life for granted.  While I thank God every day when I awake for another opportunity to enjoy life, I find myself dashing through my morning prayer of thanks and rushing off to start the day’s seemingly endless list of tasks.

This past Sunday started off in standard fashion.  I had to hurry to get the Border Collies taken care of before leaving for early church services.  My husband, Mike, was already out of the house and tending to our herd of Herefords.  I opened our farmhouse door and released my canine cattle herders to their much preferred outside world where they could work off some pent up energy playing in the yard.

My normal Sunday turned upside down a few moments later when I saw one of our Hereford cows walking solo in what was supposed to be an empty pasture.  My mind raced to catch up with the scene before me, trying to figure out how this cow could be so out of place.

Before I had time to solve the mystery unfolding before me, I saw Mike appear out of the corner of the pasture, expressing to himself, the cow and me in no uncertain terms exactly how he felt about farming this morning.  If he never saw another cow, he would be happy.  Over his shoulder, he shouted to me that this cow was in the midst of calving and that we had problems.

My stomach sank as I crawled through the high tensile fence and followed Mike toward the cow.  What did he mean this cow was calving?  We had just finished up the list of cows that delivered fall calves and they were congregated at our one farm.  The majority of our cow herd was in a 45 acre hay field, now pasture, grazing the regrowth before winter weather arrives.  How did we miss this cow's due date by more than a month.

Since Mike had already gathered her away from her herdmates and had driven her to the lower pasture, this Hereford cow was not interested in following directions that led her further from her preferred spot to calve.  With gentle persistence, we urged her to the barn.  She stopped to push far too frequently, delaying our chance to help save the unfortunate calf whose first fatal mistake in life was tucking a front leg back underneath itself.  Sometimes we can assist a cow out on pasture, but this one wouldn't stand still long enough for us to manipulate the calf into the right position to be born.

Once we had her caught up, Mike worked quickly to find the front leg that had caused the calf to get blocked in the birth canal.  After we had both front legs secured with twine so the calf wouldn't get tangled up inside again, the cow’s strong contractions delivered the calf’s head, then chest, and its hindquarters finally slipped through as it dropped to the ground.  No movement, no breathing. No sound except the final straining groan of the cow.

Seeing the calf's lifeless body brought feelings of frustration and futility rushing through my mind where optimism had refused to give up a few minutes before.  I had held onto the hope that there might be some miracle this morning and we might not be too late to breathe life back into this nearly-born calf.  We had wrestled a few calves away from death’s door during our three decades in the beef business, but this one was gone.  Too much time had gone by by during the birth process thanks to that turned back leg.

My disappointment increased after finding this to be a heifer calf.  It was the first female this ten-year-old cow had delivered.   Her past bull calves were excellent gifts to our farm, but a heifer would have carried on her genetics in our herd.  I kept kicking myself mentally with the “should have” list that always is so apparent after mistakes happen.

We should have checked her the previous evening, but we were busy moving bred heifers home.  We should have noticed her bagging up, even though she wasn’t “supposed” to be due for another six weeks.  Our bull had settled her less than 30 days after she calved in January.  We shouldn’t have turned him out with the cows so soon.  All these mental gymnastics did little to ease the depression that was enveloping me.

Rushing to clean up and get to church, I found it hard to focus on something good about this morning.  Once again, the wind had been knocked out of us as we failed to save a calf.  That lifeless body represented nine-months of reproductive work by its dam.  It just wasn’t fair that this perfectly formed animal died before it could breathe its first breath of life or be licked and dried by its protective mama.  I was feeling very sorry for myself.

As I concentrated on the minister’s message, I felt some of my anguish diminish.  I realized how very fortunate I was, despite the morning’s mishap and other seasonal setbacks that Mother Nature dealt to our farms this year.  I had many more blessings to count than hardships.  I had plenty of live healthy calves running across our pastures that had required no human assistance as they entered this world.  And while the lack of rain shrank our hay and corn crops considerably, they were not total disasters.  Good health, a loving family, supportive friends, and a safe, satisfying farm life are blessings to thank God for every day.  That’s what counts in life.

As you prepare to celebrate the bountiful harvest season and life’s blessing next Thursday, remember to count the good things you have received.  Dust off the disappointments, and keep on F-A-R-Ming.

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This past Tuesday’s general election found voters going to the polls to vote for local government candidates to serve their communities.  Sometimes termed the Off Year Election, I consider this “odd” numbered year election even more important for the agricultural community than the election years when candidates for president and governor are on the ballot.  Township officials and county commissioners can have powerful impacts on the daily lives of farmers as they govern their piece of the democratic process through landuse decisions.

Agricultural issues have become political hot buttons in recent elections, and this year was no different.  Whether or not the office seeker supported farmland preservation was a question that resonated throughout campaigns in many counties, especially in southeastern Pennsylvania.  With Pennsylvania leading the nation in saving agriculture’s most important resource --- the land on which crops are grown --- it is vital to have local government officials who share the vision of keeping our best soils in production.  How to best accomplish this goal is often an area for disagreement between policymakers.

Radio ads, television commercials, and political debate forums found candidates trying to convince the electorate of their worthiness for election to office as they answered this key question.  In the case of incumbents, they pointed to their strong commitment to saving farmland in the past.  For challengers or open-seat contestants, they espoused their position on how to keep agriculture strong.  It was exciting to realize the farm community was finally getting the credit it deserves in critical discussions about important future growth decisions throughout the campaigns this year.

In Berks County, the race for county commissioners keyed in on the question of how to fund future farmland preservation easement purchases.  We have been fortunate to have current and prior Boards of Commissioners who realized the critical need to preserve farms in the county.  They invested more than $45 million of county funds into the effort since it began in 1990.  As a result, more than 50,000 acres of Berks County’s best farmland has been preserved to date, and the list of farms entering the program keeps growing.

Thanks to those Commissioners leveraging more than $50 million in state and federal funds with their local tax dollar investment, we have been able to keep nearly 500 farms in production for perpetuity.  Our children’s children will be able to raise food and families on these farms forever.  They will be helping to feed the 98%-plus portion of the population who can spend their time doing other tasks thanks to the efficiency and productiveness of those who farm the land and put food on their tables at every meal.

As the polls closed this past Tuesday evening, the race for Commissioner in Berks County found the incumbent Commissioner who has been a staunch supporter of farmland preservation winning the majority of the voters’ support.  The second-top vote getter was a new candidate for the post who also expressed his desire to continue funding the county program and build on the solid platform for saving Berks County’s farmland through taxpayer contributions to the cause.  They will be leading the county’s efforts in farmland preservation for another four-years.

For those of us in the farm community who see the importance of this issue and who went to the polls to cast our votes, there is no question about the value of saving farmland.  When calculated out in Berks County, that local investment represents less than $2 a person annually.  It is a sound investment that will pay dividends for the residents of Berks County in the future where farmland preservation will keep crops growing on the land rather than houses.  Food and water, the two key ingredients for life, will be the gift we give to future generations of voters as a result of the decisions we are making today.

Congratulations to the winners of this year’s elections who understand the importance of saving farmland throughout their terms in office.  Congratulations to the farmers who took time out of their busy harvest season to go to the polls to cast their votes.  And, as we prepare to honor our military veterans and those currently-enlisted soldiers who put their lives on the line to defend our democracy and right to vote on Monday, Veteran’s Day, take time to say thank you for their service to our country.

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I spent a rainy Friday last week at Shaver’s Creek Environmental Center near State College. The weather was brisk, and so was the discussion that was taking place inside the rustic conference cabin that was accessed by climbing a foot-worn gravel path through statuesque, autumn-colored trees. Around the table were seated women in agriculture who are working with Penn State University who have created a network of support for female farmers. With the acronym WAgN, this fledgling group brings a new perspective to technical support and encouragement for women who farm single-handedly by choice or as a result of life’s circumstances.

As the rain pelted against the metal roof and the aroma of coffee filled the room, I listened intently to the conversations that percolated around an agenda full of topics. I learned about this relatively new organization’s purpose and was updated on its recent activities.

I heard summaries of events where participants in WAgN-sponsored hands-on seminars learned how to process chicken for retail sales, or found alternative enterprises and markets in dairying. The WAgN leaders stressed that these sessions were not limited to women participants. Numerous men had also benefited from the educational programs held at WAgN members’ farm operations, they noted. I was intrigued by the topics that were highlighted, and fascinated by these women who were striking out on their own in the agricultural field.

I was especially impressed by one of the members who talked about her mid-life career switch from a safe and secure profession to a weather-dependent farmer. Holstein cows, chickens, and vegetables are now part of her life and farm enterprise. While the information she shared was inspiring, I found myself jotting down two of her points that were philosophical and factual. Her thoughts expressed a heartfelt understanding of what farming and farm life is all about.

“It is not important to be rich in life, but to live life richly.”

As farmers, most of us know the struggles of making financial ends meet. We have weathered droughts and floods, and have balanced the ledgers in spite of crop failures and other crises brought on by Mother Nature’s unpredictable moods. We have felt the depressing blows that hit hard when a long-awaited calf or lamb or litter of pigs dies at birth. At the same time, we look in wonder at the miracle of newly sprouted seeds and the beauty of a sunrise that spreads rays of color across farm fields at dawn. Living the farm life is living richly.

“You live large when you live down a dirt road.”

Unfortunately, dirt roads are on the endangered list. Far too many of them have been paved over. It is sad see them disappear. The world will be too quiet when the sounds of stones pinging off the fenders of passing cars and trucks are silenced by macadam. Dirt roads force people to slow down and remember when ….

When I was a kid growing up on my horse, Charlie, I would enjoy trotting down the dirt road behind my parents’ farm. It was steep and dusty, but quiet under his hooves. There was a sense of oneness with the land as we traveled slowly along this peripheral path that bordered our fields. The smell of damp leaves and grassy gutters filled my childhood memories. Those were special days spent astride my chestnut Quarter horse.

That dirt road was also the site of fun-filled winter days spent sledding with friends down its steepest hills, taking care to keep our runners off the center gravel crown where stones and dirt patches could scrape seconds off our record-breaking descent as we vied to be the first sled rider to cross the culvert at the bottom. The trips trudging up and racing down that snow-packed dirt road filled our youthful days with fun, building lasting friendships and a lifetime of memories. Back then, local traffic was sparse and safety was never a concern as we plummeted down the hill.

Much has changed in the ensuing years. The township chose to “improve” that old dirt road and destroyed its character. No longer can children spend hours sledding down its sloping path. Cinders and salt quickly melt the fun away so that the black road surface is safe for motorists to speed to their destinations. Squeals of laughter that used to peal against the snow-crusted banks and into echoing hollows have been traded for the scraping of snow plow blades and the impatient hum of four-wheel drive tires on asphalt. I miss that dirt road and all it stood for ….

I left last week’s WAgN meeting and began my three hour drive back to Berks County and my farms that still have gravel driveways to make me feel at home. I had lots of time to think about women in agriculture and my own memory book. It was nice to travel back to an earlier time in my life when I was learning to love farm life and agriculture. While it may not have been the purpose of this networking session, it made me refocus on F-A-R-Ming and the important things in life I too often forget.

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Poets have written about forks in the road of life, and the various outcomes that have resulted based on an individual’s chosen path.  I found myself at a crossroad last month when I decided to take a respite from “retirement” and fulltime farming to accept a brand new position in Berks County.

I am now the official agricultural coordinator for our farming community.  With thirty days under my belt, I know that my job is not an easy one.  It is a natural fit for me, however, and I am excited about the potential and possibilities this new assignment brings with it.  I am looking forward to developing this important program.

Our county commissioner’s decision to create this position deserves a standing ovation from the farm community.  They determined that it was essential to look out for the best interests of the agricultural economy in our county to keep it the leading industry.  They understood that it wasn’t enough simply to preserve the natural resource base --- the land.  With Berks County ranking third nationally for farmland preservation, it is imperative that the people who farm the land have a viable future, as well.

As far as we can tell, this is a first for this type of job in the entire Commonwealth.  It is the result of many months of research and collaboration by a committee made up of experts in agriculture and economic development.  The American Farmland Trust helped analyze the future of farming in Berks County, and reported on their findings last year.  One of their recommendations was the creation of this agricultural coordinator position.

Borrowing from the experiences of other states, like Maryland, Virginia and North Carolina, that have already launched “farmbudsmen” positions to help sustain and attract agribusinesses to their areas, a committee was formed in Berks County last year to develop the agricultural coordinator's job description and make a formal proposal to our county officials. The Commissioners approved the concept and included funding in the 2007 budget last December.  The next step of filling that position began in May with resumes being accepted and interviews conducted by the Commissioners.

After some encouragement from farmers and elected officials, I agreed to apply for the job.  I was honored when our county commissioners offered me the opportunity to take on this challenge in September.  I look forward to putting our committee’s ideas into action.  The bar for success has been set quite high, but the future of agriculture in our county is at stake.

The first assignment in the agricultural coordinator's job description is to organize and support agricultural activities that have the highest potential for increasing farm income.  To do this, I will be developing databases, tracking the rural economy, and helping to develop land use policies.  It will be my role to advise Berks County’s leaders on issues impacting the agricultural economy and community.  I will also work with local government officials on zoning and regulatory policies that affect agriculture.

It will be my responsibility to communicate this information to landowners, government officials, community leaders, the general public and the media through public meetings, press releases and speaking engagements.  I will be assisting our farm community with marketing opportunities and research, and promoting local sales to consumers and food processors.  While doing all this, I will also be keeping track of our successes and failures as I attempt to measure up to the expectations of the leaders in government and agriculture in Berks County.

It is obvious that one person cannot achieve these goals alone.  I will need the help and support of many experts in agriculture, government, and the community.  I will be networking with the Department of Agriculture at both the state and federal levels, the Extension Service, county planning commissions, farm organizations, economic development leaders, and the list goes on.

The Berks County Agricultural Coordinator is an idea that has taken root through the philosophical and financial support of our County Commissioners.  I am excited about the opportunity to help ensure the future of agriculture in Berks County.   Even though my farms and family will once again be sharing me with many people throughout the county and Commonwealth, it is a challenge I have accepted with optimism and determination.  Together we can make a difference.

In the weeks ahead, I will be sharing with you some of my experiences in growing this position toward its goals.  Lancaster Farming’s web site is the perfect site to talk about my new job as well as stories about farm life.  Folks in other counties have already told me they are watching the progress we are making in Berks County and wishing us much success so that they can model a similar program in their area.

As I write this weekly blog, I will be happy to help mark the trail so others can follow.  Whether it is through my experiences as agricultural coordinator, conservationist, former legislator or farmer, I hope my column helps guide your path to a future in farming.  If you have an idea you want to share, post a comment to my F-A-R-M blog.  I welcome your thoughts and know others will enjoy reading them, too.

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My lawn becomes a stage every morning when four of my five Border Collies begin their performance.  They need no choreographer for their dance routine.  The melody that accompanies them in this daily ritual is the song of birds.  This harmony is punctuated by their growls and barks as the cadence of sixteen paws reaches a frenzied crescendo.

This Border Collie ballet is a special treat for me as I begin my non-stop days on and off the farm.  I take a few moments just to watch these black and white marvels race at break-neck speed to the end of the yard, crossing each other’s path with an agility that would trip up lesser canines.  They spin and surge across the well-worn grass that is more brown than green most of the year.

Back and forth the fearsome foursome run, sometimes looking over their flanks for their dance partners.  Intent on watching for a cue, they sometimes come within a hair of crashing into a tree or bush that inconveniently gets in their way.  They leap to the side with only a fraction of a second to spare, making me gasp as I watch what I sense to be an inevitable collision-course with a stationary stage prop in the path of my intense Border Collies.

When they tire of the full-tilt death-defying dash around our quarter acre “stage,” the four latch onto a stick or rope and become a black and white blur, spinning circles like an evenly-balanced top.  Round and round and round they go, heads tugging on their hapless quarry in a manner that reminds me of what these domesticated predators would have done to prey before they evolved into man’s best friend.  Their sharp fangs make short work of the center-pivot pull toy around which their pirouette takes place.

They end their dance with tongues lolling as they drop to the ground to rest.  The morning sun climbs higher and spotlights the star performers as they bask in its rays before escaping to a shady spot.  After a brief intermission that finds them lapping fresh water from a pail, the interlude ends.  Act two begins.

My Border Collies would never understand that I see their crouches and stalking as steps in a dance routine.  As members of the working dog class, they would probably be offended to be thought of as ballet dancers.  But to me, their performance is more enjoyable than watching a prima ballerina perform Swan Lake or any classical dance on stage.

Their timing is impeccable, their coordination and conditioning vital for herding, and their understanding of each other’s moves uncanny.  They are a troupe that works together and plays together.  Whether driving our Herefords or entertaining themselves with a toy, they are always a joy to watch.  They enjoy life and have a great time playing as a pack, or going solo to gather our beef herd to move them to greener pastures.

These workaholics of the canine world are always in motion.  It is a rarity for my four-legged farm hands to take siestas during the day.  Their non-stop energy is what gets them in trouble with people who buy them and then discover their obsessions.  But, when harnessed, this drive is an asset on a livestock farm that is immeasurable.  For dog biscuits and rawhide chews, kind words and many pats on the head, these working dogs perform duties that make them integral parts of the farm family.  And, when off-duty, they add simple pleasure to life as they dance to their own music.

My Border Collies’ audience includes passing cars whose drivers and passengers slow down to enjoy encore performances, repeated every few minutes on my paw-beaten stage.  I’ve heard from some of their fans that it is the highlight of their trips down our township road.  The show continues until its time for my dogs and me to get busy.  It’s a tail-wagging way to start each day.

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This week my husband, Mike, and I celebrated thirty-two years of marriage. Like many farm couples, we are a team and depend on each other to balance our strengths and weaknesses. During the past three-decades, ours has been a learning and a “leaning on” experience. When things got tough as we started our farm life together, we discovered how to manage the challenges and support one another to make things work out. Farming helped grow our family stronger. Walking away from our partnership was never an option. We were in it for better or worse!

Both of us learned about commitment from our parents. My folks celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary last month. Mike’s parents had celebrated sixty years together before his mother died two years ago. Both sets of parents were farmers. They worked together to raise children, crops and cattle. My folks are still on the farm where my sister and I were raised. It has been a part of their life and livelihood for more than half a century. They, like other farm families, know what it means to F-A-R-M and stay committed to that goal.

Before meeting Mike, I knew I wanted to farm and hoped to find someone who shared that dream. I was working for the Soil Conservation Service in Adams County when I met my future father-in-law who operated a bull dozer, building conservation practices on the land and digging out farm ponds for irrigating orchards. After a few months, I finally got to meet my future husband on a fruit farm owned by former Pennsylvania Farm Bureau President Guy Donaldson. (He still takes credit for getting the two of us together!) After exchanging a nod and a wave, I kept surveying the diversion terrace that this young high-lift operator was carving out of the hillside. That was the beginning of our work together in agriculture.

I literally fell for Mike while he was building a pond a few weeks later. I was unloading the surveying equipment off the back of the USDA pickup truck, and jumped down off the tailgate onto what looked like solid ground. It turned out to be crusted over mud that was more than ankle deep. My work boots stuck tight in the oozing mud and I went plummeting to my knees, none too gracefully. I still cringe when I think of the impression I made! Thankfully Mike wasn’t looking for perfection or coordination, and we started dating soon after that pond was finished.

After a year and a half of getting to know one another, Mike and I decided to tie the knot. While we are different in many ways, we are alike in our commitment to the land. It hasn’t always been easy. Saving up money to put a down payment on a farm seemed to take forever. While we were working on that, we rented a farm where we learned the art of barn building in Wayne County. We had moved there when I was transferred by SCS to Lackawanna County to become the first woman District Conservationist in Pennsylvania.

We needed a barn to stall my horses in, and our landlord gave Mike the go ahead to use an overgrown orchard and pasture, lay up a field stone foundation, and gather old barn wood from a building that had fallen together years before we moved there. It was our first major project as a young couple. That barn is still standing on the farm now owned and operated by our landlord’s son. Instead of horses, however, it holds apples harvested from the fields that were cleared and reclaimed by my horses, Mike and me. The worn out orchard where my horses spent countless hours chewing down hardhack and brush, has been reinvigorated with new trees that are bearing fruit and helping to feed another farm family.

There have been many stories, both happy and sad, along the way as Mike and I travel life’s path as a farm team. With meager resources but lots of determination, we have taken our desire to farm and channeled it into a game plan that has guided our footsteps since the day we walked down the aisle on October 11, 1975. Together we have turned dreams into reality, and like our parents, have raised a child, cattle and crops. We are Finding A Real Meaning with every new day --- celebrating the past and awaiting the future, and tackling the work at hand as a team.

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My parents have a picture hanging in their farmhouse that features two toddlers in bib overalls with hands stuffed into their pockets and ball caps on their heads, obviously having a serious conversation. The photo asks the question: “Been farming long?” Besides being cute poster children for agriculture, these two little boys are symbols of the hopes and dreams of every person who has ever wanted to farm.

I was touched by a response I received to my very first blog posted on Lancaster Farming’s website from a pastor who shared with me his lifelong desire to farm. He was called to minister to the spiritual needs of his fellow man rather than their nutritional needs, but the dream to someday farm never left him. He said he was inspired to reevaluate his life’s purpose and the possibility of farming in the future. I encouraged him to follow his heart wherever it might take him.

For me, farming has been part of my life from the moment I was born. I grew up on a commercial beef farm in Dauphin County. My first time away from the rural environment where I was raised was when I left home for college. I ventured to the big city of Pittsburgh and quickly learned that the urban lifestyle was not for me.

Surrounded by concrete and skyscrapers, I longed for a chance to reconnect with the earth. I finally found a public park where there were long sloping hills of green grass and a greenhouse with dark dirt and plants growing in sun drenched rooms. These were familiar sights and smells for my senses. They helped assuage my homesickness, but never cured it.

The realization that this farm girl was out of her element in the city grew stronger. It didn’t take much deliberation before I decided to transfer to Penn State to study agriculture. I returned to what has always been important in my life --- F-A-R-Ming. Except for two years of my life, I have always been focused on farming. It is my life’s story.

After graduating with a degree in agriculture from our Commonwealth’s land grant university, I became a soil conservationist with USDA’s Soil Conservation Service. I was stationed in Gettysburg, Adams County, and found an apartment in town which allowed pets. Although I spent my days helping farmers with erosion control practices and walking across their fields, it was an adjustment for me to once again live off the farm.

Fortunately, my apartment was across from the hospital which was surrounded by lots of green lawn. It was an ideal place to let my Irish Setter, Shamrock, run every day. This farm girl had never heard of leash laws for dogs that lived in town. My farm dogs had the freedom to travel on acres of fields on my parents’ farm without any constraints. I also didn’t understand the etiquette of picking up after my dog, since I considered his daily constitutions good fertilizer for the shrubs and plants that bordered the grounds. I figured it was an even exchange for the use of the exercise area we enjoyed every morning and evening.

In less than a year, I was transferred from Adams County to Berks County, still working for SCS as a soil conservationist. This time I found a farm to live on and a better home for my dog. Only after we moved away did I find out how much the staff and patients at the Gettysburg Hospital missed seeing my Irish Setter loping across their lawn in the morning mist and in the shadows of dusk. I am glad he gave them something beautiful to watch and for a short while may have helped them forget the sadness and pain that is too often found within hospital walls.

The time I spent living in town was an education beyond my college years. I learned that it wasn't easy disposing of wash water after mopping my floors. On the farm, there were always plenty of thirsty plants that welcomed the occasional sudsy soaking. But where was I to pitch the pail of opaque water when all around me was sidewalk and street? I finally gave up and flushed the bucket full of rinse water down the toilet, making more work for myself since I had to clean the bathroom all over again.

Many other urban experiences solidified my sentiments that town life was not for me. I went back to life on a farm, and have never lived anywhere else again. Been farming long? You bet, and I have loved every minute, even when times get tough.

What about you? Been farming long? Share your stories. You never know who you may inspire.

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On Monday, a door was opened for a new non-profit organization that focuses on farmland preservation in Pennsylvania.  Adopt An Acre Inc. officially cut the ribbon at its office space located on the campus of the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare’s state hospital at Wernersville, Berks County.  The three county commissioners were on hand to join in the ceremony with many of the Adopt An Acre Inc. board members.  It was a milestone day in advancing efforts to save farms and the families that operate them in Berks County and in counties beyond its borders.

As a founding member of this organization, I was pleased to have several representatives of the media cover this important event, including Lou Ann Good from Lancaster Farming.  One of the questions asked of me was: “Why did Adopt An Acre Inc. open an office on state hospital property?”  Wernersville State Hospital is located in my old legislative district at the base of the South Mountain and is fortunate to be surrounded by hundreds of acres of state-owned farmland.  It was a blessing to be able to help secure affordable office space for our new organization at this facility, utilizing some office space not needed by the DPW operation.  It is a perfect setting for the goals of our farmland preservation group.

Most of our guests noticed this beautiful farmland surrounding the campus as they arrived at the site where mental health and helping consumers with their mental illnesses is the primary focus.  But, they missed the message these farm fields were sharing about their significance to the hospital and the Commonwealth.  The question gave me a chance to reflect on some of the things I learned as a legislator and former Senate Agriculture and Rural Affairs Committee executive director, and why I pursued this location during my final term in office for the organization.

These fertile fields played an important role for the residents of Wernersville State Hospital, and other state facilities across the Commonwealth, throughout their history which spans more than a century in some cases.  The fertile land grew the food that was served at every meal, nourishing the bodies of the patients.  Some of them also received sustenance for their minds through actual field and barn work as they helped raise and harvest the crops and livestock.  Unfortunately, rules and laws were changed over the years and this type of physical therapy is no longer permitted.  Today, most of the farms are leased to private individuals who cultivate the land and compensate the Commonwealth for the privilege of renting the fields and buildings.

After years of service to the Commonwealth, it is sad to watch as the conditions of some of the historic farm buildings on these state-owned properties are deteriorating.  They keep a lonely vigil on land where they used to be the center of attention.  Now they stand empty and unused.

In recent years, rent payments that should have been earmarked for building upkeep were siphoned off to finance renovations and cost overruns at the Pennsylvania Farm Show Complex.  I am hopeful that some of these rent revenues can once again be earmarked for maintenance and repairs on state farms before their agricultural buildings are lost, along with their history.  Putting them back into use for education or agricultural purposes will also ensure their future.  Many of these buildings are quite unique and historic and they should be saved.

I was pleased the barn at Harrisburg State Hospital was put back into use last year and is once again home to a productive dairy herd.  The opportunity to help a young farm family get started was part of a law passed by the legislature in 1982, when the General Assembly also permanently protected the farmland surrounding many of the state hospitals.  This preservation effort pre-dated the state’s program for protecting privately owned farmland by seven years.  My farm hat goes off to my former boss and former chairman of the Senate Agriculture and Rural Affairs Committee, Edward Helfrick, who had the courage and vision to ensure this land would remain in agricultural production or be used for agricultural education or open space.  Plaudits also go to Secretary of Agriculture Dennis Wolff who understands the importance of utilizing these facilities for the intent of the law.

Like other farmland, there are continual pressures to attempt to convert these state farms into other uses.  Removing the easement on these farms thankfully requires a change in law, which is not easy to accomplish.  Much of the state farmland is on a surplus disposition plan which means it could be sold by the Commonwealth at some point in the future.  But, any land conveyance would have to continue the agricultural land preservation policy unless the law would be deliberately modified and its original intent ignored.

Vigilance is needed to ensure any changes in state law do not chip away at the agricultural land preservation policy that has been signed by every governor since Dick Thornburgh.  Act 159 of 1982 protects only certain farms, and not all state-owned farmland.  That is why the farmland surrounding Warren State Hospital was the target of development and has been lost to agricultural production for the construction of a super store.  This loss remains a sad memory for me as I reflect on my tenure in the legislature.  While I opposed this land transaction by a former House colleague, I could not overcome a well-financed campaign by developers in convincing the majority of legislators that they knew what was best for Warren County’s future.

I am hopeful that the presence of Adopt An Acre Inc. on the campus of Wernersville State Hospital will remind the administration, from the Governor to the cabinet secretaries for Agriculture and Public Welfare to the local hospital administrators, that the state farmland needs to be preserved, as well as lands owned by private farmers.  Our Commonwealth leads the nation in preserving farms.  Four of the top twelve counties in the nation in protecting farmland come from Pennsylvania.  Lancaster County is first, Berks County is third, Chester County is fourth, and York County is eleventh.  It is a record we can all be proud of, and we can point to our Act 159 state farms as the first example of this success story.

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The metamorphosis of an idea into reality is a process that never ceases to amaze me.  This week, I was thrilled when the Historic Barn and Farm Foundation of Pennsylvania was officially launched at a meeting at the Kutztown University’s Pennsylvania German Cultural Heritage Center.  It was a fitting place to kick off this nonprofit organization since the site features an historic farmhouse, barn, log cabins and schoolhouse.

The idea to create this statewide fellowship of historic barn owners and enthusiasts was incubated over a period of about a year.  It began after a survey of old barns was conducted by the Center for Rural Pennsylvania, which I chaired at the time in my former life as a state legislator.  This survey received national attention in the media, and caught the attention of Rod Scott of the National Barn Alliance.

Rod’s persistence in encouraging me to get involved in what NBA was attempting to do across the country paid off.  He pointed out to me that Pennsylvania, with its wealth of historic barns on historic farmsteads, did not have a statewide organization looking out for them.  In the fall of 2006, I agreed to work on that void.  I told Rod that my efforts would have to wait until the New Year, after my term in office ended and my non-stop schedule slowed down.

It was only a few days after I left office when  I received a call from Robert Ensminger, the author of the book, The Pennsylvania Barn, and renowned expert on this style of architecture in the agricultural world.  “You don’t know me,” he said, “But I share your interest in old barns and have read an article in our local paper about what you have done with the Center survey.”

That brief introduction began our nine-month excursion from idea to reality as Bob lent his knowledge and time to the effort of launching this non-profit group.  In our initial conversation, however, I did correct the retired Kutztown University professor to let him know I did know who he was and had his book on my coffee table in the living room of my farm house.  That began our friendship and partnership in this endeavor.

Bob’s network of fellow barn authorities expanded our group immediately.  We were joined by Greg Huber of Lehigh County and Jeff Marshall of Bucks County at our initial meeting which was held in March, 2007.  We have been meeting once a month since then, and are delighted to have other historic experts join our group:  Nadine Steinmetz of Lancaster County, Jim Lewars and Phil Pendelton of Berks County, John Moore of Northumberland County, Ken Sandri of Monroe County, and our latest addition is Eugene Wengert of Franklin County.

Like the expansion of our Commonwealth and country by early settlers, our Historic Barn and Farm Foundation of Pennsylvania is migrating from the southeast to the north and west.  We are following a path similar to those traveled by our forbearers as they cleared forests to farm.  Our heritage is well-marked by the hewn timbers that frame these old barns and which represent the cultures and craftsmen that built them.

Our progress in growing the “idea” into an organization of barn enthusiasts took six months.  We took care of the details of creating bylaws and writing our mission statement.  We have aligned ourselves with the Heritage Conservancy to expedite the paperwork needed to operate as a non-profit organization.  We are finished with those tasks and are ready to get to work.

Our goal is to record and document as many of the barns that were raised in Pennsylvania prior to 1960 as we can find.  We encourage people to join us in this effort by becoming members and completing our standard survey form that was officially approved and adopted at this week’s meeting.  We are hoping this uniform method of surveying these old barns will help us gather the information in a way that will allow barns in Erie County to be recorded in the same way as those in Bucks, Wayne, Greene or any county in between.

We hope to someday have regional representation on our Board from across the state.  I am encouraged by the interest already expressed by people in wanting to save their historic barns.  I appreciate their patience as we have taken this “caterpillar” idea and given it time to unfold into “butterfly” reality.  We’re ready to spread our wings and fly with the help of everyone who cares about these treasures of our agrarian heritage.

For those who have contacted me in the past, I will be getting the standard survey forms to you soon.  For those who are just getting involved, welcome aboard.  I appreciate all the hands that are helping to raise this historic barn foundation.  You are the mortise and tenon that will help preserve these farmstead treasures.  Our goal is to keep them standing for many more centuries and to tell the stories of those that we can’t save to future generations so they can better appreciate the architectural skills and pioneer determination that built these magnificent structures since the 1700s.   

For more information about the Historic Barn and Farm Foundation of Pennsylvania, contact me by responding to this blog or by sending an e-mail to me at deitschlandfarm@comcast.net.  Let me know about surveys already done by historic groups, local governments, or individuals and we will be happy to include them in our data base.  Working together, we can tell the story of Pennsylvania’s barns to everyone who wants learn about them and the role they have played on our farms in the past, their function in present day agriculture, and their value on farms of 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.