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Country Lifestyle

Livin’ On Country Time

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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.

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Country Lifestyle

Apple Fritter Quick Bread

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Total Time: 1 hour and 40 minutes

Servings: 10

2 medium apples (any type), peeled, cored & diced 

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

2/3 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 3/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 cup milk

For the Glaze:

  • 1/2 cup (60g) powdered sugar

1–2 tbsp milk

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9×5-inch loaf pan with parchment paper.

Peel and chop apples and place in a bowl with brown sugar and cinnamon. Toss and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, then add vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour and baking powder. Gradually add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, alternating with milk, mixing until just combined.

Next, pour half of the batter into the loaf pan, top with half of the apple mixture, then repeat with remaining batter and apples. Lightly swirl with a knife for a marbled effect.

Bake for 50–55 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

In a small bowl, whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle over cooled bread.

Slice and enjoy warm or at room temperature.

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Country Lifestyle

The Almanac: Old Wisdom, New Uses

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By Savannah Magoteaux

It may seem old-fashioned in today’s world of instant weather apps and precision farming tools, but for generations, farmers and ranchers have kept something tucked alongside their feed store receipts and fencing pliers: the almanac.

If you’ve ever wondered what makes an almanac different from a regular calendar—or how you can actually use one on the farm today—you’re not alone. The truth is, there’s a reason the almanac has stuck around for more than two centuries. It’s part tradition, part practical guide, and part good old country common sense.

What Exactly Is an Almanac?

At its simplest, an almanac is an annual publication that contains a wide variety of information:

  • Weather forecasts (both short-term and long-range)
  • Moon phases and sunrise/sunset times
  • Best days for planting, harvesting, and other chores
  • Tide tables
  • Astronomical data (eclipses, meteor showers)
  • Farming advice
  • Home and garden tips
  • Folk wisdom and humor

The Old Farmer’s Almanac, founded in 1792, is probably the most famous, but there are many versions today—including regional editions designed for specific areas of the country.

What sets an almanac apart is that it doesn’t just tell you what is happening; it often tells you when and how to do things based on seasonal rhythms, tradition, and long-standing patterns of nature.

How Are Almanac Predictions Made?

One of the most famous parts of the almanac is its weather forecast section.
While the exact methods are often kept secret, most almanacs combine:

  • Historical weather patterns
  • Solar cycles (like sunspots)
  • Lunar phases
  • Meteorological data

They aren’t as precise as modern radar forecasts, but they’re designed to give a general idea of what to expect for an upcoming season. Many readers use them more for planning and tradition than strict prediction.

Interestingly, some almanacs claim accuracy rates of around 80%, though independent studies suggest they’re closer to 50–60%. Still, for long-range planning—like when to schedule planting, hay cutting, or even branding days—many farmers find them helpful.

How to Use an Almanac Today

If you flip open an almanac today, you’ll find it offers much more than weather. Here are a few practical ways to use one on your farm or ranch:

  • Planting by the Moon: Many people still plant certain crops according to the waxing and waning of the moon, believing that different phases influence root growth, fruit production, or hardiness.
  • Scheduling Hay or Harvest: Long-range dry or wet forecasts can help you pick safer windows for cutting and baling hay.
  • Livestock Planning: Some ranchers time breeding, calving, or vaccinations according to signs in the almanac (or at least avoid unlucky dates!).
  • Gardening Tips: Almanacs are packed with advice on companion planting, pest control, and organic practices.
  • Household Projects: Need to set fence posts or pour concrete? Some almanacs recommend the best days for setting things in the ground to “set stronger.”

Even if you don’t follow it to the letter, it can still offer a broader way of thinking seasonally—something that technology sometimes encourages us to forget.

Tradition Meets Technology

Many almanacs now have companion websites and apps, offering digital versions of their classic wisdom.
Still, there’s something satisfying about flipping through a paperback almanac, circling dates, and marking notes in the margins just like the generations before us.

It’s a reminder that even in a high-tech world, farming and ranching are still closely tied to the rhythms of nature—and a little old-school wisdom never hurts.

References:

  1. The Old Farmer’s Almanachttps://www.almanac.com
  2. Farmers’ Almanachttps://www.farmersalmanac.com
  3. University of Illinois Extension – Understanding the Farmer’s Almanac Weather Predictions
  4. National Weather Service – Historical Weather Patterns

SIDEBAR_

5 Fun Facts About the Almanac

1. It’s Older Than the U.S. Constitution.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac was first published in 1792—one year after George Washington was elected President.

2. There’s a “Secret Formula” for Weather Predictions.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac claims it uses a top-secret mathematical formula, created by its founder Robert B. Thomas, that factors in sunspots, tidal action, and planetary positions.

3. It’s Not Just One Almanac.
There are actually several famous almanacs, including the Old Farmer’s Almanac and the Farmers’ Almanac, and they’re produced by different companies with slightly different forecasting methods.

4. Moon Phases Matter.
Many planting and farming guides in the almanac are based on the waxing and waning of the moon. According to tradition, above-ground crops do better when planted during a waxing moon, and root crops thrive during a waning moon.

5. It Once Had a Hole in the Corner.
Early editions of the almanac were printed with a hole punched through the corner. Why? So farmers could hang them on a nail in the barn or outhouse for easy reading (and sometimes, as a backup to toilet paper)!

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Country Lifestyle

The Sounds of the Country

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Daylight in the country is busy. There are engines, gates, dogs, birds, wind, and people moving with purpose. Even when it feels quiet, there is usually something making noise. It is familiar noise, the kind you stop noticing because it belongs there.

Night is different.

When the sun drops and the work winds down, the sounds change. Some disappear entirely. Others step forward like they were waiting their turn. It is only then that you realize how much the land talks after dark.

The first thing most people notice is how far sound carries at night. Voices travel farther. A truck door slams a half mile away and still feels close. Coyotes sound like they are just beyond the fence, even when they are scattered across an entire section.

There are reasons for that. Cooler nighttime air is denser, allowing sound waves to move more efficiently. During the day, sunlight heats the ground unevenly, creating air layers that bend and scatter sound. At night, temperatures even out, and sound travels straighter and farther. The land does not get louder. You just hear more of it.

Coyotes are often the headliners. Their howls, yips, and barks are not random noise. They are communication. A single howl can be a location check. Group yipping can signal territory or reunite scattered pack members. What sounds like chaos is often a coordinated conversation that carries for miles.

Owls tend to follow. Great horned owls announce themselves with deep, rhythmic calls that sound older than fences and roads. Barred owls ask their unmistakable questions from creek bottoms and timber. These calls serve the same basic purpose as the coyotes’. Territory, presence, and pair bonding, all broadcast into the dark.

Insects fill the gaps. Crickets and katydids create a steady background hum that changes with temperature and season. In late summer, their calls are loud enough to drown out distant traffic. In early fall, the rhythm slows. By winter, silence settles in where that sound once lived.

Frogs take over after rain. Stock tanks, ditches, and low spots become stages. Each species has its own call, its own timing, its own volume. To someone unfamiliar with rural nights, it can sound overwhelming. To those who live with it, it becomes reassurance that water is present and life is moving.

Livestock contribute their own nighttime sounds. A cow bawling for a calf. Horses shifting and blowing softly in the dark. The occasional thump of hooves when something unseen moves through the pasture. These noises are usually brief, but they catch your attention because they break the expected rhythm.

Some sounds are seasonal. In the fall, migrating birds pass overhead, calling to one another in the dark as they navigate by stars and landmarks. In spring, night birds return, filling the air with calls that have been absent for months. The land sounds different when life is arriving versus when it is leaving.

What surprises many people is how much quieter the country can be without human interference. With fewer buildings, less traffic, and minimal artificial lighting, natural sounds are not masked the way they are in towns and cities. Even distant highways fade into the background, leaving space for subtler noises to emerge.

That quiet can feel uncomfortable at first. Silence magnifies small sounds. A branch snapping or leaves shifting can sound larger than it is. Over time, you learn what belongs and what does not. The land teaches you what is normal.

Nighttime sounds also slow you down. There is less pressure to move, to fix, to finish. Sitting on a porch or leaning against a fence, you start to listen instead of scanning. The dark removes visual distractions, leaving only sound to tell the story.

Those sounds carry information. Weather is changing. Animals are moving. Seasons are turning. Without realizing it, you begin to recognize patterns. You notice when the coyotes are quieter than usual, or when frogs call earlier than expected. The land speaks in small signals long before anything obvious happens.

Most of these sounds go unnoticed unless you stop and listen. They are not dramatic on their own. They do not demand attention. But together, they form the soundtrack of rural life after dark.

In a world that rarely slows down, nighttime in the country offers something increasingly rare. A chance to listen without interruption. To notice what has always been there. To understand that even when the lights are off and the work is done, the land never really rests.

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