Welcome

"He just takes the tractor another round

And pulls the plow across the ground

And sends up another prayer

He says Lord I never complain I never ask why

But please don't let my dream run dry"

That Jason Aldean song popped into my head this morning as I stood at the kitchen sink washing bottles and gazing out at my husband on the tractor in the already 90 degree Kansas heat.  This is the life he was born into, and the life I have chosen.  Our ranch is small, but it's ours and completely family run.  My husband's great-great grandfather settled this land and history abounds from both the land and the people.  The Kidder Massacre (one of George Custer's men) occurred on our land; the buffalo roamed, Native American's camped, and Beaver Creek once flowed through with clear water, sandy bottoms, and rainbowed trout.  The place is alive with a colorful history and even more colorful people.  

My husband's family has farmed this land since his great-great grandfather, and I married into the lifestyle three years ago.  They've made it through droughts of the worst kind, downturns in the cattle markets and wheat markets, through pests, disease, and floods (yes, the now irragated dry Beaver does still flood).  There are parts I don't understand and may never, parts that frustrate the bazonkers out of me, but most of all I want to share our love of the land, each other, and the grace the Lord has given us.