I Hate Lawn Mowers… And Other Things That Actually Matter

A quick haiku to express my current feelings:

Mowing is so dumb / Zero turning strait to hell / The grass needs to die

I hate mowing. I loathe the lawn mower. Cutting grass is a slow, hot, sunburn causing, asthma attack inducing, hell.

And. It. Never. Ends.

The stupid grass just keeps growing, no matter how many times I scalp the lawns in my attempts to get them to die. I currently have 4 lawns under my jurisdiction, which total about 8 hours worth of bouncing, sneezing, tree branch wacking, misery. Well, technically it’s closer to 12 hours a week, considering ScubaSteve has a strict “lawns must be mowed every 4 days” policy. The guy wears a polo shirt with swishy pants on a daily basis, but heaven forbid the yards not be perfectly manicured.

But I digress.

In other, less ‘Laney shut up you’re being a whiner’ news, our first batch of sweet corn has tasseled! Hip Hip Horray! My mouth is watering. The variety of sweet corn that we raise is so sweet and delicious. I’m hoping I don’t eat all of our profits… literally. Our awesome friends at Garden Spot Produce will be selling our sweet corn at the Simpson County Farmers Market. The farmers market is open Tuesday 8:00am – 4:00pm, Thursday 1:00pm – 6:00pm, and Saturday 8:00am – 1:00pm. You all need to check that place out. The new facility is awesome and the food selection is amazing! If you are reading this and you don’t live near Simpson County, I encourage you to check out your local market and support local farmers!

sweet corn
I can taste the delicious-ness already!

Other great news – we have Indian corn growing! We have a great stand going, but MyFarmer says we need to thin out some of the plants. ┬áIt was such a battle to get them going, the thought of pulling some of them up just hurts my soul. Did I mention I get a weird emotional attachment to all of my garden/crop plants? Don’t judge me.

It is important to get as many dog butts as possible in your Indian corn pictures.

Other even more exciting news! Our first trays of mums have come in! We will be potting our little hearts out this weekend.

It’s hard to believe that those little plants (there’s 72 in each tray!) will be big beautiful mums by September!
This is Cactus Madeline. This picture has no reason to be in this blog post. But this month is her birthday, and I feel like she needs to be recognized. My first born poodle has been with me for 7 years now! I love my fur children equally, but she’s pretty darn special.

I hope everyone has a great Fathers Day weekend! Make sure you call all of your dad people and tell them that you love them… even if they won’t say it back. (looking at you, Scuba!) Ha!

Be Blessed Friends!



Barbed Wire and Gym Shorts Don’t Mix

I rolled out of bed this morning, still in my sleepwear, eyes only open in tiny enough slits to function, and headed down to check on my girl Delilah and her calf Stanley Zbornak. I gave Delilah some sweet feed because she’s adorable and she deserves it, and went on out of the barn to check the water tank. On first look I notice it’s a little low, so I go grab the hose. Upon further inspection I notice a big clump of grass and ugh, yuck, a dead bird. Gotta dump the tank out. Hmmm… I could walk all the way to the barn (you know, like 7 feet out of the way) and go through the gate… orrrr I can just squeeze though the barbed wire fence and not have to drag my half awake body any farther than necessary. Through the fence it is. Very carefully in my t-shirt, mesh gym shorts, and flip-flops, I contort myself through the barbed wire perfectly. Stanley helped me dump the tank out, and back through the fence I go. Hold breath, suck it in, right hand holds up middle strand, left hand holds down bottom strand, here I go…

Oh dear…

I get halfway though and the bottom of my left shorts leg gets stuck on a barb. Okay, I can’t let go of the bottom strand or I’m going to get a barb in an unfortunate location, so I squat down a little farther and let go of the top strand.


There is now a barb touching my rump roast, but not quite grabbing, and my pants are still stuck.


Don’t panic. Stay calm. Move slowly and carefully with deliberate movements…

I somehow, most certainly with the grace and elegance of a ballerina, manage to untangle the hem of my shorts and half slide/half fall to the other side of the fence without any blood or showing off any dairy-air. It’s safe to say my eyes are now open and I’m fully ready to start my day.

Now, normally when things like this happen to me there’s an audience. But, it’s 6:50am, and as I get up wiping the wet grass off of myself, I’m thinking I got away with it. The only evidence of this 47 second fence attack is a little catch in the hem of my shorts.


Until I look across the lot and see ScubaSteve is at the shop working on the combine.

Dang itttttt.

I’m not sure if he witnessed my little mishap or not. I’m hoping not. Making fun of me is easy, I don’t need to hand him any more ammunition on a silver platter.

Happy Hump Day, Y’all! I hope your day started off a little less eventful than mine!

Here’s a cute picture of Delilah, just because.


Speaking of dairy-air’s, June is Dairy Month! Support our dairy farmers by eating ice cream for dinner! It’s the right thing to do.