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Springfield
Saturday, January 11, 2025

Across the Ozarks

You might recall a few issues back we asked the question, “How do you keep an orphaned bottle calf alive?” in our “What Do You Say” section, found on the first page of Farm Help. I will go ahead and admit, that was a very self-serving question, but I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one trying to keep a bottle calf alive right then. My boyfriend had a baby calf whose momma wouldn’t take it. And to make matters worse, the calf's front leg got broken while he was being pulled. He was walking around with a pvc pipe “cast,” orphaned, but despite a bruised nose and swollen head, he sure was ready to live. He was a red calf, so appropriately, we named him Red.

“All We Need’s More Rain”

I guess everyone has dreamed of winning the lottery, well not everyone, but many of us have good plans for the use of the money, should lady luck hand it to us – we’d sure fix things. In my youth I spent lots of time looking for the Lost Dutchman Gold Mine in the Superstition Mountains of Central Arizona.

Life Is Simple

Jeff and Bubba work on a big spread in Southern Arkansas, along the Oklahoma border. They are your typical ranch hands who have worked together and under the same brand for several years. They have become "semi-famous" in that area as a couple of guys that can get themselves into some predicaments and – somehow – find a way to get out of them.

Across the Ozarks

You might recall a few issues back we asked the question, “How do you keep an orphaned bottle calf alive?” in our “What Do You Say” section, found on the first page of Farm Help. I will go ahead and admit, that was a very self-serving question, but I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one trying to keep a bottle calf alive right then. My boyfriend had a baby calf whose momma wouldn’t take it. And to make matters worse, the calf's front leg got broken while he was being pulled. He was walking around with a pvc pipe “cast,” orphaned, but despite a bruised nose and swollen head, he sure was ready to live. He was a red calf, so appropriately, we named him Red.

Headin’ for the Last Roundup

During my career as an editorial writer I had occasion to whomp up a piece about the nation’s most influential women.

Life Is Simple

I was raised to believe that good manners were essential to my health and well-being. Common courtesies such as “please” and “thank you” were not only expected in my public behavior – they were demanded. Responses to questions from adults were to be answered with “yes sir” or “no sir” as opposed to “yep” or “nope.” And, long before the days of liberated women, I was expected to open doors for ladies. Under the watchful eyes and ears of my parents, failure to exhibit these good manners would usually result in severe detriment to my aforementioned health and well-being.

Across the Ozarks

It’s about that time. Spring is here, and I’m sure many of you already have your early spring veggies planted. This is my annual column encouraging you to look into planting a garden this year. If there’s ever a time to consider more self-sustainability, it’s now. Produce from the garden can supplement meals, adding vitamins and nutrients to our diet, and it can be canned for use after the growing season has ended.

“All We Need’s More Rain”

Things are going hot and heavy in our nation’s capitol. Laws are being quickly passed and then the details scribbled in just before they vote for them. Most of our elected officials never even read the bills. A new broom deal sweeps clean. Now, I take this economic situation serious – we don’t need a 1930s Depression, and how much they must do to ward it off is important.

Life Is Simple

A couple of weeks ago, I returned from a speaking engagement at about three in the morning. I would have preferred to “sleep in” the next day, but with calving season still in full swing, I awoke at daylight to feed hay and check the cows. As I drove through the fields at the creek place, I noticed a cow standing off by herself, but with no calf in sight. 

Across the Ozarks

Recently I was down in Arkansas doing some articles for our sister paper, Ozarks Farm & Neighbor-Arkansas. My grandma's family hails from the Ozark Mountains down in Arkansas, and I spent many summers playing at my Grandpa and Grandma Rains' old house, chasing kitties and getting bleach baths at night to clean the chiggers off. My Grandma Rains passed away in I believe 1992, and Grandpa Rains passed in, I think it was 1998. My Grandpa Rains was a special man, quiet, but sincere. He'd farmed on that mountain his entire life, scraping out a living for his family. I remember him waking early to do the chores, feed the chickens and gather eggs for visiting family to eat. After breakfast we kids would be ready to play and he'd amble up to us, presenting a kitten or two from his pockets, for us to play with. He was gentle enough the kittens would let him catch them, then he'd delight us with a new playmate for a few hours. I used to think he just kept the kittens in his pockets for the sake of us girls as kids, but I think he really liked the little barn kitties, and I imagine he kept them with him, even when we weren't down to visit. It brings tears to my eyes, remembering his simple gesture of love. 
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