It’s Always Something

Life on a farm has a funny way of keeping you humble. Just when you think you've gotten ahead, something comes along to remind you that you're not really in charge.

Maybe it's an overflowing water tank because you got distracted by something shiny while watering. Maybe it’s fixing fence. Maybe it's a calf that somehow finds the only hole in the fence you didn't know existed. Maybe it's discovering a flat trailer tire as you are pulling out the driveway heading for the county fair.

Or maybe... it's wildfire smoke from over a thousand miles away that turns a beautiful summer day into one where the air quality is so poor you're checking your weather app before deciding whether it's safe to spend the afternoon outside.

Because, apparently, that's a thing now.

One of the lessons farm life has taught me is that there is almost always something. Too much rain. Not enough rain. Mud. Dust. Flies. Yellow Jacket nests. Extreme heat. Bitter cold.

And now smoke drifting south from Canadian wildfires.

You learn pretty quickly that fighting every inconvenience is exhausting. Instead, you adjust. You work around it. You complain about it for five minutes (because let's be honest, that's part of the process), refill your coffee, and get back to work.

This week has been one of those weeks.

The sky has looked hazy. The horizon has disappeared into a gray blur. Everyday chores feel different when the air isn't as clean as it should be. It's a reminder that we're connected to a much bigger world. Fires burning hundreds or even thousands of miles away can still find their way into our little corner of Illinois.

That's both amazing and a little unsettling.

It also reminds me that taking care of ourselves isn't just something we think about in the winter. On days like these, we've been trying to spend less time outdoors when we can, keep the windows closed, and drink a little more water than usual.

Thankfully, smoke eventually clears.

The rain comes.

The wind changes.

The sky turns blue again.

It always does.

Farm life has taught me that seasons don't last forever, good ones or hard ones. So if you're looking outside today wondering where your blue sky went, know you're not the only one. We'll keep feeding cows. We'll keep making soap. We’ll keep nursing sick calves, repairing old equipment, doing the laundry, washing dishes, pulling hackberry trees from the fenceline, and changing tires. We'll keep tending. Because on a farm, there's always something.

And that's what makes you appreciate the calm days when they finally come.