In a Matter of Minutes

     Recently, I was reminded--forcefully--how little we know about our food sources and what the farmers who grow or raise it face. You can do everything right: till, plant, fertilize, cultivate and the weather can cooperate perfectly, then BOOM! In a matter of minutes it's all wiped out by a hail storm.
     That's exactly what happened in the small farming community I was visiting. Late afternoon thunderstorms aren't unusual and often bring needed moisture. That was the predicted potential this particular evening when all of a sudden it sounded like a large crowd was pelting the house with stones. For several minutes the sound was deafening and I braced for broken windows as large hail bounced hard off the neighbor's roof onto upper story windows and yards turned white as though it were a blizzard. In minutes the basement flooded with torrents of water entering through windows and the old coal entrance as the hail hit what had been hot cement and hard rain joined the wild dance. The sights and sounds were awesome and terrifying. I had sudden empathy for people who go through tornadoes, earthquakes or other disasters where you are totally helpless and can only watch as nature takes control.
     I remembered, as a child, watching my grandfather who had a grain elevator and his own farmland, pace the same living room floor during summer storms. He'd seen it numerous times - a freak storm wiping out farmers' fields in a matter of minutes. One watches, helpless, as a year's work is destroyed.
     When it was over the town was a mess. Birds that weren't killed by the storm, staggered or sat, stunned. Cars were pocked like golf balls, windshields broken, house windows shattered, fences down, siding damaged, home gardens totally wiped out, flowers and trees stripped. By morning, the whole neighborhood would be out with rakes and shovels to clean up the debris, swapping details. Soon, swarms of roofing companies from across the state would be knocking on doors. Insurance agents would be busy for weeks. Stories will reference the storm for decades.
     While roofs, windows, siding and fences can be replaced and dents removed from car bodies, annual crops were lost for good. There's no time to start again and make harvest before winter. Anyone who gardens in that town could empathize. The few starts left at local nurseries were snapped up and planted with great hope. A summer without fresh homegrown tomatoes or corn on the cob is a sad one indeed.
  

Corn field after the storm

Photo by Bobbi Topjoj

The town is surrounded by fields of corn and wheat. Or was. The corn, most of which feeds animals, took the biggest hit. You could see the size and path of the storm's swath by what fields survived. None directly around the town did. Wheat fared a bit better. Some, though not all, was salvageable. And this in a year when wheat prices are at record lows anyway. One wonders why or how farmers do it. Gamblers in Las Vegas have nothing on them or the risk they live with every single day. We don't see it in the price of bread or meat but, trust me, they feel it.
     But it's not just the farmers who suffer. In a farming community, everyone does, just like a mill town or factory town. When a major employer is hit, the whole town is. It's a temporary boon for the lumber yard when plywood, windows and shingles are needed, but the manager of the nearest one said his eyes filled with tears as he travelled home through the wreckage that night. He wasn't the least bit happy, even as he hauled plywood home in response to frantic calls at closing time.. These were his friends and neighbors who were hit. It's going to mean a lean year. Another major employer in the area is in the crosshairs of a hostile takeover. Folks were already nervous about job security. This just adds to the soup of worries.

Wheat harvest in full swing

Photo by Bobbi Tohoj

  


But, a couple of weeks later, those whose crops did survive were deep in harvest. For some, it willbe an ok year, though not as good as when prices per bushel are where they should be.

Most who lost crops had crop insurance and some had fields elsewhere that weren't hit. And, as any one of them will tell you, "We'll hope for better next year."

Think about them the next time you eat bread or meat. I sure do.