I find that most every day there are reasons to celebrate. Some are little things, like just getting up in the morning, or the cats not bothering us while we eat supper, or the chickens laid another egg - it's like a game thinking up the little things.
The big celebrations are easy to spot, like getting rain in the summer just when our crops were about to die from drought, or our son's wedding last spring, or the great times we spend together during the holidays with the whole Manzke family.
Today, Bob and I are celebrating the end of our harvest. It took all year to get to this point. Things didn't start out so well. The drought put us on the edge of complete failure, but as I said we celebrated rain when our crops were about to dry up and die.
So we made it to harvest having something decent to combine, well at least we had half-way decent crops - and I do mean half-way decent crops, nothing spectacular this year.
Bob was ready to go. That first day he took our combine into a soybean field he was all smiles. It felt like a celebration already.
Too bad he didn't get far. The straw walker broke deep inside the machine - without a straw walker the combine clogs up as all the soybean straw jams up inside of it. The break was a work stopper.
Even so that day I found something to celebrate. Bob had only been across the street when he broke down, not miles from home and he could still drive the combine back to the shop, not get towed.
Of course, Bob tried to fix the straw walker. It turned out he couldn't get inside the machine where the break occurred. It was too tight of a squeeze, but he gave it a good try.
Bob celebrated being able to escape again. The repair would take dismantling a good portion of the combine. Bob didn't attempt this because the job wouldn't get finished until sometime in 2019.
Soon my husband figured out that our combine wouldn't be bringing in our grain this year. He telephoned friends who do custom combining and got on their work list.
When the combine crew arrived we had two combines working our fields at the same time. Bob celebrated as he worked trying to keep up with the flow of beans. He raced to pull empty wagons to the field, while bringing back full ones until the combine had all our wagons filled and some of their wagons, too - it sure was nice having such a problem.
Yields were inconsistent. Fields went from nice, to nothing. On one side of a field we had three-foot tall soybean plants and on the other two-inch tall plants.
Then there were the acres where weeds took over, even though we sprayed - a couple times.
Yet, we are celebrating harvest, not complaining of the shortcomings. We had more grain than farms were the drought devastated crops - some friends never did get to celebrate rain this past summer.
Now harvest is done, but besides bringing in the fruits of the land, I'm also celebrating a little spot.
This spot isn't from a missed bite of food on my blouse. I saw an image of this particular spot the other day in the doctor's office. It was on an MRI of my brain and showed where the clot did its damage in September.
It's not a spot I can wash out, darn, yet I'm celebrating it because it caused a little stroke and not a big one. I'm still able to function, and there were no signs of other spots on my brain. I can still do a happy dance. Hooray!
I figure most people have things to celebrate. Soon it will be Thanksgiving Day. I hope you all can get together with family and friends to count your blessings, even the small ones. It's a good thing to do, and not just one day a year. Be thankful for every day you have.
On Wednesday, Nov. 14, I will be joining three other authors for a book signing. Colette Bezio, Colleen Sutherland, Wade Peterson, and I will be at Sissy's Treats and Treasures, 205 N Main St, Seymour that evening from 5-7 p.m. Come and hear stories, drink tea, and buy a book or two. They make great Christmas gifts! Hope to see you there.
Susan Manzke, Sunnybook Farm, N8646 Miller Rd, Seymour, WI 54165; Sunnybook@aol.com; www.susanmanzke.net; http://www.facebook.com/susan.manzke.