I’ll Have My Birthday When It Rains

MyFarmer’s birthday is tomorrow, and in my typical always-planning-in-advance fashion, I asked him this morning what he wanted to do for his birthday tomorrow. His response:

“Let’s just move my birthday to Wednesday. That’s when it’s supposed to rain.”

Ummm, hang on a second.  I kind of feel like your date of birth, the day that you ended up on the outside world, is a pretty set in stone day.  Like, you have one day that is in fact your birthday.  Pretty nonnegotiable. (Except if you are one of those unfortunate souls born on February 29th and you only get to have a birthday once every 4 years.)  Not in farmer world.  In farmer world we can just shuffle our date of birth around to whenever the weather is most suitable for a birthday celebration.  Now, for roughly 98% of the non-farming population, the weather most suitable for a birthday celebration would be like April 25th.

perfect date

For the farming population, the perfect day for a birthday party looks something like this:

“I just thought it was a little whirlwind”

“It’s going to take the grill a little while longer to heat up because of the rain, so wait a few more minutes before you start the mac and cheese.”  Oye.

But that’s how life on a farm is.  If it’s suitable weather for planting, harvest, hauling, spraying, cutting hay, etc., that takes precedence over anything else going on.  That’s just the way it is, and the way it will always be. The same goes for most other life events such as anniversary’s, attendance to weddings, going out to dinner with friends, vacations, or seeing the inside of your house during daylight hours.  So ladies, when you tell me your wedding date and I say, “I’m so excited for you! I sure hope it rains!” please don’t think that I’m being a passive-aggressive mean girl.  I say that because I actually really want to be there.  It’s a sick and twisted world I live in.

I sure hope that *SOMEDAY* when MyFarmer and I have children it’s raining on D Day.  That way he won’t be tempted to say something like, “why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll come by after while.  I really want to get these last 40 acres done.”  I want my future children to have a father that has front teeth.

My fellow farmers wives, what are some of your experiences with weather on the farm controlling your life?  Please feel free to comment, and while you’re at it, wish MyFarmer and his mom a Happy Birthday! Barbara’s date of birth is in fact Wednesday!  I’m pretty sure she will be 29 this year. 🙂

She kinda likes her son. Truth be told, I kinda like him too.

Happy Monday Y’all!



What Are We Doing Here?

You may be wondering, “Why in Sam Hill am I sitting here reading this blog post by some chick and what in the heck is a Ranchy Ruby anyway?”  Okay, those are legitimate questions.  First of all, I’m excited your here. Please plan on sticking around for awhile!  We’re going to have a lot of fun.  Here’s a short list of things that I promise will happen on this blog:

1)  Funny stuff.

2)  Discussions about agriculture.

3)  Lots of pictures of Delilah.  Who’s Delilah you ask?  She’s only the most amazing, beautiful, and awesome cow in the world.  You’re excited to see more of her, I can tell.  I’m happy to oblige.

4)   Updates on whats going on around the farm.  Whether it be planting, harvest, mums, picking sweet corn, or more recently, sitting in the kitchen watching it rain for days on end, you’ll know whats happening!

5)  Random stuff I learn throughout this journey of being a farmer’s wife.

Now, what is a Ranchy Ruby?  Well, here’s the quick and dirty on that.  Ruby comes from the name of my husband and I’s farm where we are raising mums and sweet corn:  Ruby Branch Farms.  Feel free to give us a “like” on Facebook! *insert shameless plug here*  There’s actually a pretty cool reason for the farm name, I’ll be sure to post about that soon.  Onto the Ranchy part.  I REALLY want to call my little slice of livestock heaven a ranch.  Granted, I have 3 horses and 1 cow, but still.   MyFarmer REFUSES to allow the word “ranch” to be used to describe anything unless it is west of the Mississippi.  Fine, whatever.  But I CAN use the word Ranchy as an adjective.  For example: “That horse with the brands looks really ranchy.”  In conclusion, our place is not a RANCH but it is RANCHY.  Are you following?  Good.  If you’re now picturing a giant red ruby jewel wearing a wild rag and a cowboy hat so am I.  P.S. Your phone will most likely auto correct ranchy to raunchy.  Be sure to proofread before you send your mom text about how ranchy some girl is.

I’ll leave you now with a teaser picture of Delilah… just to keep you wanting more.

Photo by my awesome MIL Barbara!

Please feel free to comment with questions or suggestions!

Peace and Blessings y’all!