Simple Times

BY SUZY McCRAY

This morning a man on social media proclaimed how much he enjoyed hearing his roosters crow in the early morning hours. Of course, I agreed!

For the more than 30 years I heated only with wood, there was no mechanical sound of blowers coming on to impede my hearing. Even during the darkest night, I could be assured of the safety of my animals from the muted animal sounds I heard throughout the night. But if I heard an unusual cackling of the hens or alarms from the many guineas, I knew it was time to grab the shotgun and check out the barnyard! Now we keep the thermostat set to not come on often so just before daybreak I can still hear my roosters as they begin to crow. As the sun begins to rise above our surrounding foothills of the Appalachians, I hear an occasional bleat as the goats line up single file across the fence waiting on Mack to bring their breakfast and fresh water. Even in the coolest temperatures, the ducks begin quacking as they splash in their blue plastic pools.

And just as I try to roll over and snuggle under the well-worn quilt to snatch just another moment of sleep, Turkey Tom begins to gobble, probably lining up the 10 baby guinea keets who follow him around

thinking he is their mama!

I can’t imagine living in town, and especially a big city, where the sounds I’d hear would be honks, sirens, doors slamming and who knows what else. Some people thrive on that lifestyle. I am not one of them!

I can judge Mack’s moods by the sounds I hear. If I hear him softly whistling a favorite hymn or a bluegrass tune as he walks in from the barn or our woods, I know ALL is right with the world no matter what the TV news might say.

Some folks want some kind of “noise” going on all the time. We knew of one woman who kept two radios going full blast at opposite ends of her house; each tuned to a different country music station. Evidently some folks can’t operate their vehicles without sounds so loud they jar the surrounding countryside as they drive down the road. Some folks keep their TVs on all day, just to have the noise in the background. As you can tell I’m not one of those people.

Sure, I love music. I majored in music the first three years in college and I’ve played piano practically all my life. And I enjoy watching YouTube videos of many pianists. But no, I don’t keep them on around the clock.

I want to be able to hear the geese when they fly over in the morning going to a nearby pond, and just before dusk when they fly back to their nightly roost. I want to be able to hear that buck as he rubs his antlers on the swaying tree down toward the creek, and sometimes even the clank clank clank as two young bucks try out their swashbuckling skills.

I want to be able to hear the slamming of the old timey screen door as someone goes into the tiny general store on our farm. I love hearing the cackling of a big fat hen when she joyously announces that she’s laid another big brown egg.

And oh my goodness, who wouldn’t want to hear the chiming of the windup clock sitting so majestically on our fireplace mantle! Even its ever so soft ticking just seems to reassure that although time marches on, all is right in our home.

And it’s not just because I’m getting older. Way back in 2014 son Nathan posted on Facebook what a night on the farm meant to his heart: “As I put mom’s animals to bed late night (don’t worry, she’s fine, just at church), I may have caught a piece of understanding.”

Nathan went on: “With my usually sensory overload style, with this moon overhead, I could hear the chorus of frogs across the pasture – when I say chorus I mean almost siren-like fall of voices.

“I could smell the warm earth, and grass, cooling just after the sun’s setting.

“Hens inside the hen house softly cooed and clucked as they settled in for a cozy sleep. The guineas chur-chur-chur as they try to select their perfect limb to roost on the nearby pear tree.

“Goats gently bleat at me as I close the doors and gates against whatever the night may hold.

“I can hear a rabbit in the bunny barn, lapping at its water bottle clackity clackity clack ….

“I’m usually well on my way to bed at this time of night, but tonight I’m, grateful. I’ve seized a little bit of the peace mom gets to have every day.

“Farming is never easy, or sometimes profitable.

‘Every day however, there IS a harvest to be reaped.”

I used Nathan’s words at the end of a 2015 article that went on to win all sorts of national awards and proved to be what I’ve been trying to say here. In the hustle and bustle of today’s world, don’t forget to just stop and listen.

I’ve often said I’ve felt closest to God inside a sweet-smelling hay-filled barn as a baby goat was born, because in the silence broken only by a mama goat’s nickering, you can feel God’s presence. In the Bible we learn that God’s voice was heard in a whirlwind, the thunder and in other mighty ways. But we also see that He spoke in a “small still voice.” I don’t want to ever be so bombarded by the sounds of the world that I miss that!

isions of sugarplums won’t be dancing in heads for months.

VBut the holiday season is always on the minds of Christmas tree farmers like Frank Wadsworth. He grows 8,000 trees at his Wadsworth Christmas Tree Farm in Elmore County.

Saturday, Central Time Market Station Time Columbus, Ga. WLTZ 38 5:00 PM Sunday, Central Time Mobile WPMI 15 6:00 AM Birmingham WBMA 33/40 6:30 AM Huntsville WAFF 48 9:00 AM Montgomery WAKA 8 10:30 AM Dothan WTVY 4 10:30 AM

RFD-TV: Wednesdays • 3 p.m. Central ALWAYS ON: www.SimplySouthernTV.net

Frank Wadsworth: In 1976, my father-in-law gave me 2,000 Virginia pines. He told me to plant them because everyone was planting them in Alabama for Christmas trees. I did but didn’t do anything to them for about three years. Then I went to a meeting at Auburn University where they talked about all the care Christmas trees need.

FW: In the ‘70s, there were a lot more farmers growing Christmas trees. We seem to have more and more customers every year who tell me they’ve never had a real Christmas tree. But the biggest change has probably been the size tree people want. Back in the early days, an 8- or 9-foot tree was big. Now, I get people asking if we have 12-foot trees. I’ve even sold some that were 15- and 20-feet tall. People are really looking for bigger trees.

FW: Right after Christmas, we start planting new trees. In summer, you have to keep the weeds out from around the trees, so we spray trees once a month, following an herbicide and fungicide program. We mow once a week. Once a tree is in its second year, it has to be pruned twice a year. On about 12 acres, we grow around 8,000 trees, ranging in age from one to seven years old. With my sons and me working, we can prune between 700 and 800 trees a day.

FW: Sometimes, a tree will be 6- or 7-feet tall by year three. But we prefer to wait until the fourth year to sell a tree, because then you usually have a field full of trees ranging from 5- to 9-and-a-half-feet tall.

FW: Water, water, water. Don’t let your stand run out of water. Depending on the size of the tree, it may drink a gallon or more per day. If the stand runs out of water, even for just an hour, sap can seal the base of the tree, and then it can’t drink anymore, even though it needs it.

Simply Southern’s segment about Wadsworth Christmas Tree Farm will air on broadcast stations Feb. 5 and 6 and on RFD-TV Wednesday, Feb. 9, at 3 p.m. Central. For more information, visit www.simplysouthern.net.

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