Cow Pies & Bases

Sample Chapters

35: IN THE STARS

          There were no sharp edges delineating boundaries between farm, school, and church in our rural community.  Any intended lines were blurred.  I expect the resulting fuzziness had a lot to do with our give-and-take relationship with the land.

           That relationship was as personal as those with family members, neighbors, and animals.  The first corn plant poking its green leaves through the soil prompted a sense of awe and faith in knowing that after a harsh winter, the land remained productive, capable of nurturing new life.  We watched that corn grow tall, eventually towering over our heads, and we began to imagine a bountiful harvest.  And then the hail would come and we’d pray that the corn would survive.  Or there might be a summer without timely rainfall and again we’d worry whether there would be enough corn to feed the cattle.   After a good growing season, when the silos and corn cribs were filled, we knew the satisfaction of having successfully partnered with the land.  The ground would lay fallow for the winter renewing itself; we trusted that beneath four-foot snowdrifts nature was preparing for yet another season.

The revolving seasons shaped the land and our lives.  That seasonal clock was more important than any alarm clock would ever be.  It not only marked subtle and then dramatic changes in the landscape, it made very clear that we only worked with the land—we were never in complete control.  There were patterns and powers beyond reach.  Thus the land took on a sacred quality and directed us toward the holy.

The land contained mystery, as did much that took place on the farm.  When I was old enough to do chores in the barn but not yet able to milk cows, after finishing filling water tanks and putting hay in the mangers, I’d follow my dad from cow to cow as he milked, asking question after question.  He must have been a fairly patient man because he seldom turned me or my questions away.

Often we talked about the mysteries that surrounded us.  The thrills of helping a cow deliver a calf.  Why cows have four stomachs and how they work.  Why we rotated our crops to better care for the land.  How corn pollinates.  How manure replenishes the soil.  Why sows may have fourteen pigs and cows usually have but one calf.  Why some cows, for example Jerseys, produce milk with higher butterfat content than others such as Holsteins.

Walking from the barn to the house after finishing milking often took much longer than it should have.  We’d stop along the way to stare up at the bright stars against an inky sky and Dad would point out constellations that his mother had pointed out to him when he was young.  Or we’d talk of the universe and wonder about how that sky stayed so much the same, even though it appeared different from hour to hour and season to season. 

We didn’t often speak explicitly of God, but the whispered sense of awe, of being part of something much bigger than ourselves, of being stewards of things almost holy, permeated how we thought about and how we walked upon the land.