Country Lifestyle
Livin’ On Country Time
By Beth Watkins
Phone conversations between me and my country boy usually include: “When will you be home?” His answer is always, “Soon.” I’ve come to realize “soon” could mean anywhere from 30 minutes to just before dark.
City folks run their lives by clocks, calendars, and chirping apps. Out here, good old boys run on sun, seasons, and whether the tractor has oil pressure and air in the tires.
When I lived in town, I used to fuss over traffic – slow left-laners, backed-up intersections, endless red lights. Turns out, when you don’t deal with them daily, they lose their sting. These days, the only traffic backups are caused by people following hay equipment crawling down a county road. Listen up, people! We are barely moving – give your car a little gas and go around… bless your hearts.
We live where cows outnumber people, and one Saturday we rode our tractor to the little store for fuel. The only “traffic” we met was another John Deere doing the same thing.
Life may be slower, but I’ve found a new thorn in my side: procrastination. Unlike rush hour, it doesn’t come and go – it settles in like dust on a dirt road, in every nook and cranny. Out here, procrastination isn’t about laziness – it’s all strategy and timing.
In some homes, when something breaks, folks call a repairman. But in a country boy’s house, we fix it ourselves – eventually. If we can’t fix it, we don’t need it.
When approaching the subject of things left undone on the list, I try to handle it with mercy and grace. The Bible tells us in Proverbs 21:9, “It is better to live in a corner of the attic than in a house shared with a quarrelsome wife.” Wise words – no one wants to live with a nag. So, I carefully, artfully, and creatively steer my “honey” toward his to-do list. I have a plethora of “carrot on a stick” type incentives. Some work like a charm. All are great ideas, but when you have a husband who works all the time, some of them are marked NA – Not Available.
You want to know how deep procrastination runs out here? Let me paint you a picture. My cabbed rake tractor lost its right-side mirror to a low-hanging branch three summers ago. I wasn’t on duty that day, so when I asked about it, I was told it was on order and would be fixed “soon.”
This year, my tractor has an automatic quitting time built in. The light switch quit working, so dark-thirty means it’s time to head to the house. I swear I had nothing to do with it – the knob just came off in my hand.
The mower hasn’t had a cover since the last belt change. Belts fly off, and I suggested putting the cover back on so we wouldn’t have to walk the pasture looking for them. He shrugged and said he’d just have to take it off again anyway. Country logic: why secure what you’ll unscrew by lunchtime?
He keeps saying we’ll get a new mower once we get ahead – a phrase that means nothing in our operation because as soon as you fix one thing, something else decides to retire without notice.
My husband has been cutting and baling hay in a cabbed tractor with no air conditioning for the last three years. He even has the parts to fix it, somewhere in the back of his work truck. But instead of taking the time to fix the problem, he just shrugs and keeps right on baling – inside a rolling “green”house, where temperatures have reached a high of 116 degrees.
If you’re asking yourself, “Can’t he remove the doors and glass to get some air moving?” The answer is, “Absolutely, he can!” But then he risks being swarmed by bumble bees. You see, bumble bees build nests in the ground, and when you run over one in tall grass, they get real irritated. He’s had a bad experience before. Years ago, he ran over a nest in an open-cab tractor and ended up bailing off the side while it was moving. The bees chased that tractor all the way into the pond.
My country boy is tough because he never complains. I honestly don’t know how he does it. I hate being hot. And I know what you’re thinking – why don’t you start really early in the morning when it’s cooler? You can’t start until the morning dew has burned off. On the days when there is no dew, that means it’s been hot all night and it’s about to get hotter. I think his tractor sauna has warped his brain – somewhere between heatstroke and hay dust – because by dark, he’ll say, “It wasn’t that bad today.”
If you ask him why he hasn’t fixed the A/C, he’ll squint across the pasture and say something wise-sounding like, “Well, I was gonna… but then it was hay season.” As if that explains everything – and in a way, it does.
When we bought our new-ish work truck, it was really nice. A clean black mega-cab dually with a manual six-speed that had been deleted and tuned and ran like a scalded dog. But the truck has had more run-ins with deer than a game warden during rut season. The first deer collision messed up the grill. We replaced the grill and bought a chrome grill guard with a winch. That grill guard has been sitting on the garage floor for the past nine years. A few years ago, he blew a tire and took out a dually fender. The heater hasn’t worked in so long that his winter driving routine involves scraping ice off the inside of the windshield. It hasn’t seen a car wash in eight years. The side mirrors are great – they stick out far enough to keep an eye on the trailer but are broken from the last hailstorm that gave the whole truck a good beat-down. Oh, and the brakes only squeal some of the time. Last week, the A/C stopped working. The truck is a beast – and now looks like one too.
In our little slice of heaven, we have two main seasons: propane season and hay season. Propane really goes on all year; it’s just not as busy in the summer. Hay season falls somewhere in the summer, in a sweet spot that changes every year. After the rains stop, the weather has to warm up so the grass can grow. Fertilizer gets sprayed, followed by a little rain. While waiting for the hay meadows to dry and the grass to shoot up, it’s supposedly the perfect time to prepare all the mowing equipment for the season. But sometimes in Oklahoma, the weather shifts overnight and – bingo – it’s go time. Daylight’s a wastin’.
Meanwhile, some folks get antsy and bale too soon. Just the other day, we were loading last year’s hay from a location about thirty minutes from our place. I sat there, doing my job: holding my foot on the brake while the hay was loaded, and I watched in amazement as a guy across the road, in a brand-new tractor pulling a brand-new baler, made deep ruts in the mud and nearly got stuck every time he turned the corner to run over wet windrows, water pouring from his baler. An old timer driving down the road stopped to chat. He looked over to see why my expression looked so worried and said, “Reckon he’ll learn the hard way. He just moved here from California.”
When you bale wet grass, it molds on the inside and you also risk it catching fire when the temperatures rise. Bless his heart.
And finally – let’s not forget that front flower bed. As I’m typing this, my Romeo is outside with fifty bags of mulch, laying out plans. We built our home in 2016 and moved in that November. “Front flower bed” has been on his honey-do list since spring of 2017. Time is the hottest commodity here at The Cross Creek Cattle Company. So it is chosen wisely.
One thing I’ve noticed: if you’ve got a little land, you probably have nice, shiny equipment you wash before returning it to its tidy shed. But once you cross a certain acreage threshold, things start to change. Your “fleet” turns into a lineup of elderly machines held together by duct tape, faith, and the occasional bungee cord.
Every year, despite the weather being either too something – too wet, too dry, too hot, or too windy – we stumble our way through hay season, with every intention of having equipment in tip-top shape next year. I think maybe the thing that keeps us from fulfilling that dream is all the life interruptions that happen between the end of hay season and the beginning of propane season. But life always interrupts, and thank goodness it does. A life without interruptions would be boring – and might even soften a good man.
The Good Book says, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for today has enough trouble of its own.” That’s why here at the end of this dirt road, we don’t fix it till we need it.
Country Lifestyle
Where the Paved Road Ends: We Traded Front Porches for Facebook
By Beth Watkins
I miss the days of living in a little one-stoplight town. Everybody knew everybody. If you rode your bike somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, by the time you got home your momma had already gotten a phone call. And if you sneezed on the east side of town, Miss Martha on the west side was already adding your sinuses to the church prayer list.
Every town had a few little old ladies who somehow knew everybody’s business and didn’t mind discussing someone else’s dirty laundry. Today, I guess they call it “spilling the tea.” The difference is, back then they whispered about it over coffee. Today folks post it before breakfast.
Social media wears me smooth out.
But it’s like watching a train wreck. You just can’t look away.
My sister, Glenna, lives a couple of hours from me. Most mornings, before noon, one of us sends the other a screenshot of the most jaw-dropping post we’ve found on our local community page.
One day someone posted, “Can somebody bring my mom and me a Pepsi? She gets paid tomorrow and will pay you back.”
I answered with nothing but a laughing emoji.
Then I sent her one from my town.
“Can somebody bring me a garden hose? My little girl wants to play in her kiddie pool, but I don’t have a hose to fill it.”
I texted my sister, “Do they own a bucket? A water pitcher? Maybe rinse out a trash can and carry water!”
Now before anybody gets their feathers ruffled, my sister and I have a pact. We never comment. We just send our replies to each other. My husband says we’d be labeled as “mean girls.”
We prefer to think of it as community service… spreading common sense from one end of Oklahoma to the other.
Now don’t misunderstand me. If your house burned down, your husband lost his job, or life knocked the wind out of you, neighbors ought to show up before you even have to ask. That’s what communities are for.
But somewhere along the way we stopped asking ourselves, “How can I figure this out?” and started asking, “Who can fix this for me?”
It wasn’t because life was easier. It was because people expected more from themselves and less from everyone else.
I miss that.
Sometimes I wonder how we’d survive if we had to live the way our grandparents did. Can you imagine how many folks would be in real trouble if they had to haul a bucket of water from the creek just to have water in the house?
I also miss when every thought didn’t need an audience.
Back in my hometown there was a widow whose heart was bigger than her house. She loved to cook, and she loved having company. Instead of sitting on her front porch wishing someone would stop by, she’d cook a big meal and call the fire department or the police department and invite them over for supper.
She didn’t wait for community. She created it.
That little lady never threw herself a pity party. She never posted about being lonely or wondered why nobody came to visit.
She simply moved first… and they came.
She chose to be the blessing instead of waiting on one.
Remember when folks knew your business because they lived life alongside you? Today everyone knows your business because you posted it, with filters, hashtags and a play-by-play.
Now don’t get me wrong. I use social media too. It’s how I keep up with family and friends who live far away. I love watching babies grow up, seeing vacation pictures, celebrating anniversaries and rejoicing over answered prayers.
And yes… I use it for entertainment.
Y’all letting AI give you a makeover and posting it like it’s an actual picture… come on now. Every once in a while it’s fun to pretend your Fairy Godmother showed up with a pumpkin, a couple of mice and a little bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. But every day?
Cinderella… it’s after midnight. You’ve lost your shoe.
I miss when people were a little more humble. If they received a blessing, they thanked God for it. They let their character do the talking instead of their Facebook page.
Somewhere along the way we’ve traded humility for visibility.
In our little one-stoplight town, we didn’t need an app to find our friends. We knew exactly where they’d be. We’d spend Friday nights dragging Main, making lap after lap from one end of town to the other. If you didn’t have enough gas money, you’d park at the tag office or the school parking lot and sit on the hood of your car.
We were connected long before Wi-Fi.
The funny thing is, we have more ways to communicate than any generation before us, yet somehow we’ve never been lonelier. We can video call someone on the other side of the world, but many of us don’t know the name of the person who lives across the street.
We’ve traded front porches for Facebook, driveways for direct messages, and waving across the fence for clicking a thumbs-up emoji.
Maybe the answer isn’t another app, another platform or another community page. Maybe it’s remembering how we were raised.
Figure a few things out for yourself.
Keep a few things to yourself.
Help your neighbor before they ask.
Wave at people you disagree with.
Sit on a front porch every once in a while.
And every now and then… tuck your crazy in.
Country Lifestyle
Lacey’s Pantry: Baked Ziti
By Lacey Vilhauer
Ingredients
- 1 pound (16 ounces) ziti noodles
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 4 garlic cloves, pressed
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 1 pound ground beef
- 1 pound mild Italian sausage
- 5 cups marinara sauce
- 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
- 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
- 1 cup whole milk ricotta cheese
- ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
- 3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, divided
- ¼ teaspoon black pepper
- 2 large eggs
Instructions
Cook ziti according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
While the pasta cooks, heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Sauté garlic and onion for 2 minutes. Add beef and sausage and cook until browned. Drain off excess fat and return the meat to the skillet.
Add marinara sauce to the skillet. Use your favorite pasta sauce or make your own! Stir in Italian seasoning, salt and red pepper flakes. Simmer on low heat until the pasta is done. Stir half of the meat sauce into the cooked noodles and reserve the rest for layering.
In a small mixing bowl, combine 1 cup of the mozzarella, the ricotta, ¼ cup of the Parmesan, 2 tablespoons of the parsley, the black pepper and the eggs. Mix until combined.
Assemble the ziti in a 13×9 baking dish or in ramekins for individual servings. Spread half of the sauced noodles in the bottom. Dollop half of the cheese mixture over the top and spread it evenly, then add ½ cup of mozzarella and half of the reserved meat sauce.
Repeat with the remaining noodles, cheese mixture and meat sauce. Top with the remaining ½ cup of mozzarella and the remaining ¼ cup of Parmesan.
Bake uncovered at 375 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes, until bubbly and the cheese is melted. Remove from the oven and top with the remaining 1 tablespoon of parsley. Serve hot and enjoy!
Country Lifestyle
A Better Fire Pit Season
By Ann Asher
The first cool evenings of September make sitting outside sound good again. After months of Oklahoma heat, a fire pit, a few chairs and an evening outdoors can finally feel inviting.
Before you strike the match, take a few minutes to make sure your fire pit area is ready for fall.
Start with location. Set a fire pit on a level, noncombustible surface such as concrete, brick or patio blocks, not directly on dry grass or other vegetation. The National Fire Protection Association recommends keeping fire pits at least 10 feet from anything that can burn, including decks, siding, fences, overhanging branches and outdoor structures.
That distance matters even more after a dry summer. Even when evenings cool down, dormant grass, fallen leaves and other dry vegetation can catch a spark fast. Clear leaves, sticks and other debris from around the pit before you use it, and skip the fire on windy evenings.
Check whether your county or town has burn restrictions in place. Drought can linger well into fall, and local rules may change with fire danger. A fire that was fine one weekend may be a bad idea the next if conditions have worsened.
For wood-burning pits, use clean, dry, seasoned firewood. Don’t burn trash, treated lumber or painted wood. Never use gasoline or other flammable liquids to start or relight a fire. Commercial fire starters or ordinary kindling are much safer.
Once the fire is going, keep it manageable. A backyard fire pit doesn’t need to become a bonfire to keep you warm. Smaller fires are easier to control, throw fewer embers and are much easier to put out at the end of the evening.
Keep children and pets well away from the pit, and set chairs far enough back that no one sits directly over the heat or in the path of sparks. The NFPA recommends a three-foot child-free zone around the fire.
Look at what else is nearby before everyone settles in. Blankets, loose clothing, outdoor cushions and even the stack of firewood beside the pit can become hazards if they sit too close.
Keep a way to put out the fire within reach. A garden hose, a bucket of water or a shovel and dirt can all work, depending on your fire pit. Never leave a fire unattended, even if it seems to be dying down.
When the evening is over, make sure the fire is completely out. For a wood fire, water the coals, stir them and water them again until no heat, glow or flame remains. Let ashes cool completely, then store them in a metal container with a secure lid, away from anything that can burn.
A fire pit doesn’t need much to become one of the best parts of fall. A safe spot, a little preparation and a manageable fire are usually all it takes. Then all that’s left is finding a comfortable chair and enjoying an Oklahoma evening that is finally cool enough to stay outside.
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