New friends on the other side of the fence

With new territory comes new friends, right???

Last year i wrote a post about How a Girl gets a Horse and i am HAPPY to say, my Fox Trim Classic is now 27 years old and alive and kicking!

And by kicking i mean: KICKING, showing of his manly hood, making lots and lots of noise and pretty much acting like a 5 year old, i just discovered myself, stallion!

A couple of months ago, my dad got 1.5 horse. Yes, 1.5 horse because one is really big and the other one is a really little little Shetland pony. And thus.... 1.5 horse...

My mom and dad have a nice old barn besides their house and we build some stalls. We also got them a pasture. Nothing fancy but nice, underneath the trees, and we thought it would be sufficient for them. The first 2 months those horses could not go outside... It rained and rained and rained.... But  finally after 2 months they did and oh, they were some happy horses.

All this time Classic would sneak peeks to my mom and dad's place to see what was going on. The problem was they were a little to far away for him to get to know them a little bit better plus i don't think he sees really well long distances (being old and all) so "making new friends" wasn't an option, yet...

But that all changed last week. Because of the weather and the location of  the pasture the grass is not growing as well as it should. And Classic has TONS and TONS of grass. His pasture is a bit bigger and no trees. (Yes some people call it spoiled)...

Soo, last week dad and i decided to move his 1.5 horse to Classics pasture, so half of the pasture could be used for them and the other half for Classic (Yes, there has to be a boss...). With of course a 10 foot barrier in between so Classic wouldn't jump in with Magic and Raisin (and yes Raisin would be the tiny one) and cause all sorts of trouble...

But making new friends is really really hard.

And i mean REALLY HARD! Because of the task we have given ourselves by starting our own large family farm and with me getting sick and going true chemo for almost 64 weeks there wasn't much time to make a lot of new friends. So seeing my super stud trying to make new friends is like, "Oh, I'm not the only one who has troubles doing this...".

In Holland i was blessed with good friends. Friends that have grown with me into the persons that we are now, friends who came later in life and which i experienced good, not so good and bad things with and friends that are friends for life.

BUT... I am here now. And they are there...

And telling your friends what you do in a new country with a different mentality with different customs and different views on life, just doesn't cut it all the time. Plus their lives go on too. They have new jobs, new adventures, get married, have cute little babies and i have no idea about what it is they are doing all day, every day... And that makes me miss them even more. Don't get me wrong, i don't want to go back to The Netherlands... i just wish they were here...

I think we, as in Classic and his new buddies and me, will be fine given time.

There are soo many nice, sweet, talented, good, friendly, smart, open minded people here, so it is only a matter of time before i meet some more of them. Because yes, i too have met some really fantastic people already, but friendships need to grow and i can't expect that all the friendships i had in Holland, build up over 28 years, are gonna be here at my doorsteps right NOW. Although i sure would want that! And i am a very impatient girl! So every second here in this beautiful country is another second in which i miss my friends back "home".

But i have good hope, and i have time... What more can a girl wish for...

And as far as my super stud goes... i checked him again just now. He's grazing happily on one side of the fence and Magic and Raisin on the other side looking at each other, sniffing the air and act dumb... I think they'll be all right!

...

Trading Places

When I was 14 years old, life was so full of exciting things I almost didn’t know where to start...
Almost…

At that age I had already figured out that I wouldn’t be a good nun, boys where way to interesting to give up. I also knew that I did not want to be involved in anything that had to do with mathematics (go figure that 10 years later I got my masters in Agricultural Economics). I was defiantly not going to be a trucker, well not in Holland, the roads were just too small and there was too much traffic.  And that I loved speed except on my horse, whenever he decided to take off!

What I did figure out however was that I wanted to get my motorcycle drivers license. I thought driving a car was for sissies, so I would be much cooler to drive a huge motorcycle. Not a Harley, no one of those fast ones. Maybe yellow or flashy green???

Of course I would talk about this a lot and it wasn’t long before one of my friends told me, “Well, Leontien, if you really want to ride a motorcycle, why don’t I come over to your house with my 250 cc (HUGE BIKE) and you can try it out?”

I wasn’t really sure if I wanted him to know how incredibly awesome I would be so I made him a counter offer. “I would ride his bike if he would ride my horse. Trade places for a bit and see where we end up?"

So for weeks he bragged to all his friends that he would ride my horse and be really really good at it, make him (the particular horse) do all the tricks those little girls (being me, riding dressage) would do. And me telling all my girlfriends that I would take that motorcycle and speed off into the sunset.

Ah well, being young and innocent can be such a blessing…

Finally the day had come. My friend came over with his motorcycle and parked it right behind our house. I had to do a “take, double take” because that bike was BIG!!! But of course I couldn’t tell him that, instead we went to the barn and I showed him my horse, Flicka (yes after the movie, My Friend Flicka). His name was really Flipper, but I didn’t agree with the fact that my horse was named after a dolphin, so Flicka it was.

To this day I’m still not sure what my friend thought of my horse but we decided to ride the bike first then the horse.

In order to ride the bike properly we went to the little alley besides our hog barn. He explained all the handles, the pedals, the gas and yes the brake. He drove up and down the alley and came back smiling like crazy. Yes, he was going REALLY FAST! According to him I needed to “get a feeling for it” and so I rode with him on the back and yes it was EVEN FASTER!!! Maybe i wasn't the speed devil i thought i would be..?

I wasn’t even sure if I could do this…

But it was my turn, and i couldn't back out. He again, explained all the handles, pedals, brakes and gas and I got on. Oh my Gosh, I was really gonna do this…

I drove 10 meters (maybe 30 feet give or take) and got myself into a tractor tire rud (more like a gully), and the damn thing (the bike) was just too heavy for me, so next thing you know, because yes, I was also driving 1.5 miles an hour, the bike tips over!!! I fall on my side and the bike falls half on top of me and my friend has to run over (luckily not that far) to come and rescue me! I didn’t get hurt, well, not fiscally but my ego got a HUGE DENT! This was not how I imagined it to be, I was going to fly into the sunset, not get toppled over after 30 feet!

After I recovered from my embarrassment it was my friends turn to ride my horse. He was still chuckling over the fact I did so poorly and I’m sure if we had cell phones with Internet access it would have been sent to EVERYBODY!

So we saddle up Flicka and got him into the riding pen. I explain to my friend with what foot he needs to stand in the stirrup, how to use his reins and what to do to make Flicka go forward or stop. Did I mention I rode DRESSAGE??? He puts the left foot in the stirrup and with a little push from me, the literally falls onto the saddle…

Yes, boys are anatomically different build then girls…
So when you fall onto a saddle like that, something is going to hurt. BIG TIME!!! He didn’t only turn blue, no he turned GREEN! And he whimpered instead of screamed. Which made it even worse.

He got off Flicka, with again a little help from me and sat on the ground for at least 15 minutes. By then the color in his face had returned and I had put the horse in its stall.

We decide to tell everybody that “it just wasn’t our cup of tea…” and left it at that.

My appetite for being cool and riding a motorcycle went away that day. Now I’m just cool driving my car with the air conditioning on high…



...

Oh Canada!

This is the first part of a 3 piece post about my adventures in Canada… I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had “doing it for real” in my 6 months there!

In Holland when your about 17 years old and you go to “college” you get the chance to go on a practical training period in the profession you most desire. And yes I am a dairy farmer now, but at that age I still had my heart sold on horses…

My stud: Fox Trim Classic with Christina Jones





Everybody knew that I was the (slightly crazy) girl who went to America and Sicily all by herself and had a need to go far, far away again if the option was presented. My favorite teacher asked me one day where I would like to go for my practical training period. And without a hesitation I blurted out, Canada!

To this day I have NO idea why I said Canada, but I did and so I had to face the consequences.

My favorite teacher told me a couple of days later he had the perfect spot for me. They had hundreds of horses, right where the Rocky Mountains rose up so lovely surroundings, tourists would come daily to take trips on horseback into the mountains AND they had a pool!

Well….. Sign me up!

Not that I like swimming (I HATE SWIMMING) but the rest sounded like a dream come true. And for the rest of the school year I was preparing for my practical training period. I dreamed about training horses during the morning, showing people the surroundings/mountains in the afternoon and relax in the evening by the pool!

My teacher made it only better and better (he told the best stories about other students who went to Canada), the drive from the airport would only be one hour and the people would pick me up, so I shouldn’t worry…

The day of me leaving came and I went in good spirits, longing for another adventure, to Canada.

Mares and fillies at Touchstone Farm






After a close to 16 hour flight, we had some delays and stops; I arrived in Edmonton, Alberta. By the baggage claim there was a scruffy guy holding up a sign that said Touchstone Farm...

That would be me…

So I went to meet the guy and he told me “sorry” for looking so scruffy, he just had an incredible busy day and I didn’t have time to get changed. I didn’t mind I was already happy I saw a friendly face. We hit the road and after an hour I started wondering if we were going to get there… “Just a little bit further” Chris (the friendly guy) told me.

After an hour and a half, being sleep deprived and watching the landscape changing from “pretty out in the bush to NO CIVILIZATION AT ALL) I really got a bit worried… The further we got away from the airport the lonelier it got, I started to wonder if Chris was really who he said he was... No lights from cities, no street lights, more trees, a bit more trees and only trees…. and mountains… NOT the Rocky Mountains but mountains to me… Holland is as flat as a coin so if you have a little hump that would be a mountain all right!

I found out later that the Rockies were two hours away…

Beautiful landscapes and skies at
Touchstone Farm



Finally after driving for a good two hours we got to a drive way, and Chris told me “This is it!” By this time I was awake for over 23 hours. It was getting dark, and the first thing I saw was the indoor arena…

And the thing that stuck as a bullet in my scull was, “I Can see TRUE the indoor arena!” No state of the art arena like I was used too in the Netherlands, no, just a very sturdy, see true arena.

We drove up to the drive way and to my left I see a huge pond… No cemented pool with little benches and towels and martinis (I don’t even drink, but that was in my head) ready to go. No, a dug out pond with lovely little birds and critters (I didn't even think about the bloodsuckers until later!)

We drove even further up the driveway and I see a BARN… But the barn was rebuilt into a house… And I thought “O my Gosh”, I’m gonna live in a barn for the next 3 months!!!???

In front of the barn/house were a little lady and another lady standing/waiting for Chris and me to get out of the car. As soon as I stepped out of the car I felt the love of the two ladies surrounding me. They welcomed me into their country and into their house and they asked me if I would like to call home to tell my parents I arrived safely.

Until that moment I hadn’t been homesick, EVER!

The house!










I called my mom and dad and as soon as I heard their voice I started crying. Not quiet crying, no bawling like a maniac! And the worst part was, I just couldn’t stop! I was crying because I missed them, I was missing my friends, that teacher lied to me, I felt swallowed by this huge country, it’s loneliness, an because I imagined this place soooo much different and these people were soooooo sweet!

The little lady (Mavis, the mom), the other lady (Wendy, Chris’s sister) and Chris showed me the house which was actually pretty amazing and put me to bed…

The next morning I woke up by the sound of horse feet thundering down a pasture, I jumped out of bed and looked out the window and saw 50 broodmares coming over the hill running towards the house true a creek…

Right at the moment I thought…. “Well…. I think I can handle 3 months here in Canada!”

Next week… part 2 of Oh Canada!



…

Memories of the old days

I love farming!

Love farming 2000 years ago
(at least all the info I have read about that time and farming)
Love farming 200 years ago
(my grandparents, grandparents did a wonderful job)
Love farming 20 years ago
(my dad was, and is, the best)
Did NOT love farming 2 years ago
(2009 was just a shitty year, for all farmers)

And yes, although farming under the circumstances there days
is though, I still love it.

Since I started with the whole blogging, facebook, website (and don't
forget Twitter) thing, I looked up all our old and new pictures to use for
future blogs/posts and I came across some, I think, beautiful pictures
from Bastiaan's family.  And it brings me back  to the time my grandpa
and grandma were still alive and I was very little and loved the way they
farmed. How they operated their machinery, used horses and were
all day every day. And everybody had 2 cows, 2 pigs, chickens and
a horse...

Don't get me wrong I don't want to go back to that time but it is
amazing to me how far we have come and makes me appreciate more
and more about what it takes from those 2% of farmers that is left in
America to feed the world.

And I love the fact that we have beautiful pictures to enjoy and
remember those good old days!

I hope you enjoy!

Living my American Dream...

Imagine a little blond girl, on her little pony
with red wheels, cruising thru the kitchen. A
strange man comes in and tells her about a
spider.She has NO clue what he is talking about
because she is Dutch…and Dutch people do
not speak English. But she just KNOWS it is
a scary thing, a big problem! This was the
very first word she learned in the English
language.

Couple of years later when this little blond girl
turned into a taller, skinny blond girl that man
showed up again in the kitchen.
He turned out to be her dad’s younger brother,
and tells her about America…. About the
endless roads, the proud mentality, the friendliness
of the people, the green pastures and the horses

he loves so much.

This blond girl knows what she wants,
(read this as: she’s incredibly stubborn and
hard headed), and she decided to go to the
land of endless possibilities and discover it
for herself. And she did, after three months
spending time on her aunt and uncle’s horse
farm in Michigan; she came home to the
Netherlands and told her mom and dad,
“When I grow up I’m going to move to
The States!!!

She went to high school, focusing on horses
and cows. Went to College, focusing again on
horses and cows and finally to University to
study Agricultural Economics and to get her

teaching degree. She visited America as much
as she could during school breaks. During this
time she worked to get the right papers so

she would have a better shot at being able to come
to this great country. Her mom was terribly sick,
which made it very hard for her dad to run the family
operated hog farm and to raise three “little” kids.

The family held it together as good as they could
but because of the “Swine Fever,” that went all
through Europe in 1997, the farm ended. ..

Her dad always dreamed of having a dairy
farm. When he was a young man himself he
wanted to milk cows, but after meeting and
marrying her mom they took over the homestead.
Her mom just loved her family so she said she
would go where ever it would make them happy.
Her brother also was very fond of milking cows
and everything that had to do with agriculture.
He followed his big sister and went to the U.S.
to do some practical training sessions
for College. The youngest sister in this story didn’t
like America at ALL! Even the idea of visiting was
outrageous no matter what kind of fairytale stories
her big sister would tell…

But in 2003 after the blond girl graduated from
University, madly in love with this boy from
the northern part of the country, and who she
told on the first date: “you better believe it, I’m
moving to the States when I got my degree,
even if you come or not!” The family and the
handsome young man made the decision to sign
some papers with a well known Dutch/American
organization, to move to the land where they
would live their American dream and milk
some cows!

Arghhhh, try to get into this country!!!!
It’s grueling!!!

After several years (yes, YEARS) of trying
to sell the farmstead, visa denials, moving
from one friends to another with only the clothes
on your back (because the container with the
rest of you belongings is already packed and
on a ship). And finally visa approvals, saying
goodbye to friends, and the emotional
rollercoaster that you are not a resident of you
birth land any longer but not quite a resident
in the other new land either.

We entered the United States of America on
February the 14th of 2006, with our visas and
hopes for a better and new future. Except
for the younger sister and her boyfriend
(of 9 years), they decided to stay in The
Netherlands. But they did change their minds
about visiting and America!!!

Construction of the dairy started in November
2006 and on the 20th of November 2007 we
milked our first cow, and oh my gosh,
IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!! All the planning,
hiring people, construction problems, start up
problems, documents that needed signed,
restrictions, Indiana Department of Environmental
Management visits, convincing the public: we are
NOT big corporation monsters, just a family who
loves being here, was more than worth it!!!

We are truly BLESSED to milk 2200 cows and
we love every single day of it!

I have grown up quite a bit. I love my
family, friends and all the other people I know
very much. I have learned problems are not
problems, they are just challenges that you
need to overcome. Without learning the
word “spin” in English (spider), I would never
have had the opportunity to live my
American Dream.