I try to tell our farm story from my eyes. These eyes, who see our children playing in the waving grains of the prairies. They see wildlife, the wind ruffling the leaves of our crops, the beautiful sunsets while my husband and I work the land. They see my husband working himself to the bone, just to keep everything we have.

One thing you can’t always convey across writing very well is the emotion that’s behind these eyes.

Lately it’s a storm that I feel is coming. A darkness that wants to consume us with fear of the unknown. Just what am I talking about?

Grain markets.

This year was bountiful for our wheat crop. We’ve made the best wheat crop so far, and we’re not the only ones. Our average on the farm is 42 bushels per acre, this year it was 65. Some places had close to 70. We had beautiful spring rains that helped our crops grow. We celebrated the rain and were thankful for every inch we received.

Then our elation eased once we took our wheat crop to the elevator.

When selling our grain at our elevator, we have no control over the price we get for it. It’s an open market. This year while weighing our options on when to sell it, bills started piling up. With our farm we don’t have much cash on hand, so we have to sell to pay bills. These bills are inputs (seed, fertilizer, chemical, insurance, etc.) put into our crops.

It was a wash this year.

That means it actually cost us to grow wheat.

We made zero profit of our best crop of wheat this year.

And the loan at the bank, called an operating loan, is still needing paid. Along with usual family bills that come around like clockwork.

Emotion.

How can you convey and put into words the fear of these prices we are getting for all our hard work? It’s difficult sometimes. Imagine putting every ounce of yourself into something only to get nothing in return. Your paycheck cut in half, but your household items never lower in cost. That’s what it’s like to farm sometimes. Frustration, heartache, fear of losing it all.

Not everything is rosy in this farm life and that is why only two percent of people in this country continue to farm. Because we don’t give up. We wipe the dust off our knees where we have been kicked down, wipe our brows and hope.

We hope this is as low as it’s going to go. We watch those sunrises and know  a new day has started. We sigh and know someone upstairs will provide encouragement and guidance.