The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
Why does it take a moment to say hello and forever to say goodbye? It just seems like yesterday when we were newlyweds settling into our first home that Mark asked me the question. “Where’s your sewing machine?” My sewing machine?! Why would I need a sewing machine?
You have to understand that I come from a long line of non-sewers. It started with my grandmother. Her mother-in-law was a wonderful sewer and was not about to give up her position as the head mender of the family. My mother and I only took sewing classes in junior high school because we had no choice. My sister however inherited our Great-Grandma Adair’s position as the next family seamstress. She won several top 4-H sewing honors. I chose to explore other 4-H projects. I did however earn a blue ribbon the one year when I made a blue and white striped seersucker bib-overall type dress. That was my only experience sewing. Yet it set the stage for my future as a farm wife.
Mark and I both made assumptions when we were first married. He just assumed I would mend his farm clothes like his mother had and I assumed his mother would want to keep the job as mother-in-laws do. We were both basing our assumptions on own family traditions. Time to start a new tradition for our new family.
I was off to town with the goal of finding a used sewing machine. I found it. Just the sight of the used Singer sewing machine brought back memories of Junior High School Home Ec classes. It was simple and yet sturdy enough to get a needle through a couple of layers of denim. Under my arm I carried my new sewing machine out the door to our new home.
For twenty plus years my old Singer and I have been mending farm jeans and jackets. I even made a dress for Katie when she was younger and fuzzy bear costumes for the boys when they and Katie were Goldilocks and the Three Bears for Halloween. I just assumed my old machine and I would always be sewing together. Once again, my assumption was wrong.
My pile of ripped farm pants was pushing the cupboard doors open. After stacking second cutting hay, several pair of pants had new worn holes in the thigh and knee area. It seemed like more jeans were going in the mending pile than in the clean pile. Everyone was always searching for a pair of farm pants to wear. Now that we all can pretty much wear the same size, I think we go through more jeans than ever. I needed to cut down on my mending pile and stock up the clean pile again. The kids would soon be taking 8 pair of farm jeans with them to the state fair and Mark and I would be left with nothing to wear!
As I started to mend the second pair of pants, it happened. My machine died. I heard the pounding sound in front of me as the needle missed a couple of stitches before it would catch one. I was not going to get through my pile this way. And just like farmer’s luck, my machine died on a Friday. I had Michael drop it off at the repair shop with fingers crossed that it was just a timing and tune-up issue and he could bring it home right away. Nope. Two of the four gears were shot and the parts and labor to repair it would cost more than the machiIt seems like we are in a season of goodbyes around our place. As farmers, we are constantly marking the seasons by events. It is time for spring planting when the oak leaves are the size of a squirrel’s ear. The first frost is predicted six months after you hear the first clap of thunder in a new year. The MN State Fair signals the end of summer vacation. This year the state fair will also mark the start of a season of goodbyes for our family.
This season has been slowly creeping up on us for the past 20 years. This will be Jonathon’s last year of showing in the Coliseum as a 4-H’er. His last time around the ring will be in the showmanship class at the end of the day. He would love to close out his 4-H career by winning the top spot. He has worked hard to earn this chance. As Jonathon says goodbye to the events of his childhood, he looks forward to entering his 20’s in September.
This will also be Michael and Crystal’s last trip out on the shavings. Crystal will retire from the promenade and Michael will move on to her daughters to keep up the family tradition. Michael is also saying goodbye to high school friends with reluctance as he starts to move ahead in life, yet at the same time is excited about creating new adventures and memories with college and dairy friends. Saying goodbye for Jonathon and Michael on these events is the end of something simple and the beginning of everything else.
Katie and Austin are not in the season of goodbyes. They are more focused on the next game, adventure and event. The back to school picture will seem empty with only 2 kids standing at the end of the driveway in early September. What signals the end of childhood may also just be the beginning of moving on.
How To Become A Farm Cook
I was looking forward to 2015 being a year of new adventures. Little did I know my new adventure would start so quickly. Mark Klaphake asked if I would be interested in writing about farm cooking. I started laughing. I have to apologize. Once you hear my story, you’ll just shake your head too!
I come from a family of wonderful cooks. My grandmother always had fresh pie on the counter or cookies in the freezer. She made all her grandchildren’ birthday cakes…homemade angel food cake with 7 minute frosting! She swore brown eggs were the secret to cake. Her daughter, my mother, is just as good as a cook. Homemade caramel rolls on Christmas morning. Always extra food on the stove in case someone stopped by at lunch time. I think some people actually made a point of coming to our house at noon for Mom’s cooking. Neither woman was fancy, just good home cooking. My two sisters are also great cooks. One could open her own restaurant. The other sells cheesecakes at fundraisers for over $500!
Then there is me. I couldn’t even boil water. I was such a klutz in the kitchen that I wasn’t even allowed to carry the jello salad to the car for school potluck dinners. I killed more yeast trying to make pizza dough from a box. I was not a cook but I had a knack for taste testing. I was Mom’s taste tester. With a quick swipe of my little finger in a bowl of cookie dough, I learned how things were suppose to taste. Needless to say, I left the kitchen to my sisters and I worked with my brother outside.
I survived my young adult life by having roommates who loved to cook. This arrangement worked well for me until Mark and I were married. He cooked even less than me, so I got the job by default. The first thing I did was subscribe to a great magazine called “Taste of Home”. Many of the recipes I use today are from my well worn and splattered issues. My grandmother also gave me “The Joy of Cooking” cookbook as a shower gift. Pages are falling out of my book where our favorite recipes are written. My “Betty Crocker Cookbook” is from the 70’s with the latest fondue recipes and simple ingredients.
Through the years, Mark has been my guinea pig for new recipes. He never wasted anything I put before him, but he has suggested that I don’t need to make cornbread surprise again. With the kids, my focus turned to easy recipes in which I could sneak the most vegetables in a single dish in which they would still eat.
As most farm cooks, I’ve come up with some standard recipes and common sense tips to get a balanced meal on the table for family and friends.
Since when did a vacuum cleaner and a dust buster become kitchen appliances? You won’t believe how I’ve used them.
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As their four children pursue dairy careers off the family farm, Natalie and Mark are starting a new adventure of milking registered Holsteins just because they like good cows on their farm north of Rice, Minnesota.
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