Fall arrived today, bringing a chilling reminder that our hot summer is now only a memory. It was 32 degrees here on the prairie in Sherpeland this morning. (Sunday night it got down to 28 degrees.) I love fall but I’m not ready for the cold weather that accompanies it.
Farmers around us have been busy chopping corn. They still blow the silage into wagons, and in some cases into large trucks, but most of it is unloaded into concrete bunkers in the ground or blown into the long, white “worms” you see on many farms. I don’t see a lot of silage being unloaded and blown up long pipes into silos these days.
Silo filling was always a great adventure when I was young. Dad didn’t have his own chopper, wagons, and silo unfiller. He hired a farmer who had the equipment and went from farm to farm, doing the harvesting.
It was always an exciting time when they arrived with the silo filler and started running the pipes up into the silo. We were usually in school when silo filling took place, but got to help out when we got home. I got to drive the John Deere B or 50 and hauled wagons from the field to the silo. Then helped unload the wagons by pulling the silage from the back end of the wagon into the silo filler. An auger would push the silage into the blower and it would shoot up the pipe and into the silo with a rattling sound. It was a dangerous job and you had to be careful not to get your clothes caught in the auger. That could lead to a quick amputation of a limb. Many farmers are missing an arm or a leg because of silo filling accidents.
When I think of silo filling. I can still smell the sweet scent of the silage. I always liked the smell of fresh silage as we unloaded it. There’s something about smells that conjure up all kinds of memories associated with that smell. The smell of silage brings back memories of silo-filling, throwing the silage down the silo chute on cold days in the middle of winter, knocking the frozen silage from the side of the silo with a pick axe, and finally that sickening smell from the fermented silage in the bottom of the silo at the end of the year. I didn’t care for that smell. I bet those same smells come drifting back from your memory bank as you read this.
There are still silos on many farms, but just like many timber frame barns, many silos now stand empty too. They are symbols of a lifestyle that has changed since I was young. I wonder how long it will be before timber frame barns, and the silos that stand next to them, are as scarce as windmills and corncribs on a farm? Most farmers find it’s too expensive to restore them.
During the recent Vernon County Fair, I met a couple from Crawford County who have restored an old barn on their farm. I was at our booth in the co-op building when I heard my name mentioned in a conversation at the next booth to us. Three people were talking about my column. Naturally, my ears perked up.
After introducing myself, we started talking. I found out that one man reads Across the Fence in the Boscobel Dial and the other couple read it in the Crawford County Independent. The couple moved to the area several years ago, and have restored the old barn on their property. It cost them a lot of money, but they love old barns like I do. We think they have so much character and you can see the axe marks on the beams from the hard, physical labor that went into building a barn in those days. Of course now that the barn has been restored, their property taxes took a substantial jump. Perhaps that’s a big reason most people tear down, instead of restoring old barns on their property. They said that people now stop when driving by and get out to take pictures of the barn. They invited me to stop by sometime and they’ll show me the barn. I plan to take them up on their invitation.
This is a great time of the year to take a leisurely drive on country roads and check out the old barns that are still standing. The colors should be reaching their peak during the next couple weeks and you’re in for a visual treat as you travel those roads. Many trees have already turned. Get out and enjoy the beauty of the fall colors before rain and wind strip the leaves from the trees. Better yet, park the car and go for a walk if you’re able. Listen to the wind in the trees and the rustling of the corn stalks. See how the sun shining on a field of corn makes it glimmer with a golden glow.
If you want a spiritual experience, find a wooded area that’s alive with color and streaks of sunshine beaming through the leaves. Sit quietly, listen, and watch as colorful leaves float gently to the ground. No stain-glassed cathedral can compare. If you’re looking for me in the fall, check the back roads and our woods. I’ll be spending as much time as possible there.
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