“Dirt road” memory lane

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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