This last weekend, my Mom and Gram came for a visit. I met them in town for lunch, and then we headed for the farm. When we got to the river, I stopped to catch some pictures of the ice jams.
I've seen it a hundred times. But every year I'm still awed by the awesome power of this force of Nature - huge slabs of mini glaciers, moving slowly downstream, carving the river as they go. Most years, this annual migration also means putting in new fence crossings where the ice tears the barbed wire from its posts and carries it away. And it signals the coming transition to spring, and a new season of activity on the farm.
It made me think about the amount of time farmers spend thinking about the weather, aware of the elements and what a particular weather system or anomaly might mean. Around our camp, we live and die by the Weather Channel and National Weather Service updates. Our kids knew from the time they were tiny where to find the forecast on TV. They also knew that when the weather was on, they'd better find something quiet to do until it was over!
Seeding, calving, haying, harvest, fencing, working cows, feeding - almost every task on the farm depends on, or needs to be managed around, the weather. What others take for granted or barely notice, we take pretty seriously.
We keep records about the weather too. I know more than one farm wife with notebooks full of yearly markers like first and last freezes, significant rain and snow amounts, first and last snowfalls, fog days that can help predict future precipitation, what date the river breaks up, soil temperatures that tell us when it's seeding time, and more. I'm not as good at writing it down as some, but my farmer seems to remember most of it in his head. I suspect it's because he's been noticing those things and keeping a mental log since the time he was small - watching the morning and evening weather on TV with his own Dad.
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This intimate relationship with Mother Nature isn't just for management or monetary purposes either. There's a real life or death aspect to it. Winter blizzards, torrential rains and wildfires are all legitimate concerns. Being prepared reduces risks to both livestock and humans, but Mother Nature is unpredictable and always has the final word.
While blizzard conditions gripped much of our area last week, wildfires raged in the South. I read with horror about a young couple who lost their lives as they worked to rescue a herd of cows trapped by the flames. We know the sense of obligation and gut wrenching sense of helplessness they must have been feeling. And although seemingly inexplicable to some, we understand their actions regardless of the risk. Those kids have our utmost respect, and our heartfelt prayers and deepest sympathies go out to their families.
Some of my friends laugh at my habit of keeping an eye to the sky, or about the fact that my FEMA weather app won't let me add any more locations. I've been scolded more than once for a weather alert on my phone going off during a meeting. And I've seen more eye rolls than I can count when I jump at the sound of the fire siren in town or cancel a trip to stay home because of the forecast. But for us, all those things are more than a nuisance or quirky habit. They're a necessity and a way of life.
Editor's note: Farver farms and ranches with her husband and their two children on the prairies of Northeast Montana. They also produce a value-added line of soup, stew, salad and snack mixes made with the grains they grow on their farm. Contact her at shauna@farverfarms.com .
