The last of my butterhead

Last night I watched as Minnesota's 60th Princess Kay of the Milky Way was crowned.

MarJenna McWilliam, our new Princess Kay, will spend most of today sitting in a cooler while Linda Christensen sculpts her likeness into a 90-pound block of butter. Before the end of the Minnesota State Fair, eleven more butterheads will join MarJenna's in the butter sculpture booth.

Thirteen years ago, I became a part of Minnesota's butterhead tradition.

One of the most common questions I heard after becoming a butterhead was, "What are you going to do with all that butter?"

My answer was always, "I'm not sure."

A lot of dairy princesses serve their butterheads at pancake breakfasts or sweet corn feeds as a way to say thanks to their local dairy farmers for supporting the dairy princess program and thanks to their community for supporting the dairy industry. Others display their butterheads at their weddings. And some dairy princesses, like these three sisters, keep theirs.

I wasn't ever sure what to do with mine. I used the scraps of butter from the sculpture to bake Christmas cookies that year and sent them to many of the people who had supported me as a dairy princess. My butterhead itself went into cold storage in my grandfather's freezer.

As time marched on, I figured there wasn't much I could do with my butterhead, other than keep it. I figured the butter probably wasn't safe to eat anymore. Then, I happened to judge a dairy princess contest with Dr. Florian Ledermann, a dairy veterinarian from Alexandria, Minn. As we talked about my butterhead, Dr. Ledermann assured me that the butter would be safe to eat for many years. Dr. Ledermann had been a food inspector when he served in the military, years before, and butter was one of the foods he inspected.

So, after my grandfather passed away, I buckled my butterhead into the backseat of our car and drove it home. My sister helped me slice it into chunks, which we bagged and returned to the freezer. I baked those pieces of my butterhead into all sorts of recipes over the next year and a half.

Two years later, long after I thought the last of my butterhead had been consumed, I found one last package in the bottom of our freezer.

The butter may be all gone now, but the memories will last a lifetime.


P.S. If you're going to the Minnesota State Fair this year, and you'd like to have Princess Kay of the Milky Way visit your school sometime this year, follow Midwest Dairy (@MidwestDairy) on Twitter, take a picture of yourself at the Butter Sculpture Booth in the Dairy Building and tweet it using the hashtag #MNPrincessKay. One winner will be randomly selected every day of the Minnesota State Fair and announced by noon the following day. Good luck!

Up, up and away!

Two years ago, I had what I thought would be the ride of a lifetime: I got to ride along during a test flight of a personal airplane. I figured it would be my only chance to fly in a plane that small. Last week, I was proven wrong. A friend of Glen's parents, Gary is a pilot who happens to enjoy giving rides in the two-seat airplane he built himself. Gary and his wife, Betsy, live in Arizona, but spend part of their summer in Minnesota.

Dan and Monika got to check out the airplane with Gary before our flights. Gary built the plane in 1982. It weighs about 700 pounds.

Gary and Glen, just before they taxied down the runway at the Sauk Centre Airport. Gary gave both Glen and me a short ride.

Up, up and away they go. Betsy said the plane is so small it reminds her of a dragonfly when it's in the air. The weather was perfect for flying.

The aerial view of the Stearns County countryside was gorgeous. The landscape was remarkably green for this time of the year.

We got to fly over our farm. If you look close, you can see which part of the pasture was clipped and which wasn't. Big Birch Lake is in the upper left corner. I got to fly over the lake, too, and it was so neat to see the topography of the lake from above.

There's so much we don't see when we're on the ground. Glen said he was able to pick out the variety differences in our corn fields and see where one soil type changed to another.


Thanks for the great rides, Gary!

Daphne's toes

Omnomnomnomnom! Toes!

Agh! You caught me!

Ha! They're so delicious, I'll eat them anyways!

Daphne Helen joined our family six months ago now. I won't say that having another child in the house hasn't been challenging at times, but those challenges are quickly erased from memory by joyful moments like the ones above.

Daphne is a delightful little person who has been affectionately nicknamed Squeaky by her father and siblings. She loves to play with, and eat, her toes. She likes to be out in the barn or in the yard, watching the animals or her siblings. (I'm guessing she has a hard time differentiating between the two at times.)

She squeals when she laughs and sometimes snorts. Daphne is almost always smiling, is very patient, and is very tolerant of being s-mothered by Dan and Monika.

Above all, she is loved and adored by everyone who meets her – most of all, her family.

First crop, summer fun, and the best summer bars

After flirting with us for quite some time now, it feels like summer has finally arrived. In true summer fashion, Dan and Monika have spent most of today both soaking wet and half dressed. I can only imagine what the couple who pulled into our yard looking for directions thought when they found Dan and Monika in the milk house with the water hose.

Lunch on the picnic table with Cocoa Crispy Bars for dessert!

They were too wet and dirty to come in the house for lunch. Thank goodness for the picnic table.

And after waiting nearly a month for the fields to dry out, we're finally making hay. We started cutting first crop on Father's Day. The guys finished baling and wrapping the hay from our fields yesterday. Now we're trying to finish up a couple of Glen's dad's fields. I'm so glad we have a good neighbor who can wrap our hay; it would have been nearly impossible to make dry hay and we didn't have enough acres to harvest to warrant putting up a bag of haylage.

I'm hoping that after first crop is all wrapped up (pun intended), life will settle down a bit. I know this is most likely a futile hope, but, hey, I can hope. We've packed a lot of activity into the first 20 days of summer vacation – the Stearns County Breakfast on the Farm; a visit from my sister, her boys and their friend Kaelyn; finally getting the heifers out to pasture; the installation of a new manure pump; the celebration of Glen's grandfather's life; the Central Minnesota Youth Dairy Days Show; and camping at Millwood Ranch (an annual Father's Day weekend event for Glen's extended family).

With Princess Kay of the Milky Way, Christine Reistma,
at the Stearns County Breakfast on the Farm.

With their cousins, Hailey and Kallie, after the Dairy Days Show.

After my sister, her boys, and Kaelyn left, Kaelyn emailed and asked for the recipe for the bars I made while they were here. I'm always tickled when someone likes something I've made enough to ask for the recipe, especially when the recipe is one I've developed myself. I sent Kaelyn the recipe and decided I'd share it here, too.

These bars are great anytime, but they're especially great in the summer. (1) There's no frosting (they don't need any) to melt all over your hands. (2) They're extremely portable and easy to eat with one hand – great for the guys while they're in the tractor or skidloader. (3) They take only minutes to make. And (4) you don't have to heat the oven.

Cocoa Crispy Bars

Ingredients:

¼ cup butter (half a stick)
1 cup white corn syrup
1 cup white sugar
½ cup cocoa powder
1 cup peanut butter (I use crunchy)
6 cups crisp rice cereal (about half of a 12 oz. box)

Directions:

In a large pot, melt butter over medium heat. Add sugar, corn syrup and cocoa powder and stir or whisk until cocoa powder is all mixed in. Stirring constantly, bring the sugar/syrup mixture to a boil. Immediately remove from heat. Mix in peanut butter. Then add cereal and mix well. Press mixture into a 9x13 inch pan. Let cool for a little while before cutting into squares.

[Update: To make it easier to remove the bars from the pan, spray the pan with cooking spray and then wipe out the excess with a paper towel.]

Enjoy the bars! I hope you're having a great summer!

I Just Can't Take It Anymore

One night earlier this week, I was trying to apply ointment to the sores on Monika's face. It was late. She was tired and uncooperative. I was doing my best to remain calm. Finally, through tears, Monika sobbed dramatically, "I just can't take it anymore."

As I tried to sooth her back to a cooperative state, all I wanted to say was: I hear you, baby girl. I'm right there with you.

This has been a limit-testing month. The kind where you're sure whoever it is that has your voodoo doll has got to be out of pins. The kind that no amount of flourless chocolate cake can make better, even if only for a moment.

I try really hard to focus on the good in life. But this month, it's been hard to do.

We said good-bye to my cousin, who lost his life way too young.

Helen – the sweet, little old lady who we played cribbage with and shoveled snow for and eradicated dandelions with when we lived in St. Paul – passed away, too, at the age of 99. Her death caught us by surprise; she had sent us a card only a few weeks ago.

Glen's grandpa spent several days in the hospital. He's back in the nursing home now, but he's still very sick.

Somehow, Monika got a bad case of impetigo. Thus, the need for the ointment. She had to miss a day of school, so I got to listen to her sob all day about not getting to go to school. And I know impetigo is a minor condition in the grand scheme of life, but is has been one more thing to deal with and worry about.

All of the prayers we said last summer for rain are finally being answered, except now we really need it to stop raining for a couple days so we can finish planting our corn. Plus, the lack of sunshine has only exacerbated our gloomy moods.

We had to euthanize the best cow in our herd. The next day, a 10-month-old heifer got stuck in the J-bunk and died.

The barn has flooded twice. Once when the calves' drinking cup got stuck. Once from the deluge of rainfall. (That's where the term Gutter Flooder comes from.)

On the Sunday night before Memorial Day, a belt broke on the vacuum pump with three cows left to milk. I swear nothing ever breaks on a weekday morning.

The Sunday before that, one of our heifers delivered her bull calf and then her uterus prolapsed. Veterinary emergencies never happen during regular call hours, either.

Then, yesterday, I started thinking that maybe our voodoo doll really had run out of room for pins. I was wrong.

I turned the burner on under a pot to make supper and went back outside. But I turned the wrong burner on. My blue mixing bowl was sitting on the burner I mistakenly turned on. When I got back to the house, I discovered my error, moved the bowl and it promptly exploded all over the stove.

Just before the bowl incident, my thumb had a run in with a pipe and the Sawzall I was using to cut it. Although it hurt like the dickens, it didn't look that bad at first. Then the blood started running out the wrist of my milking glove. So now my thumb is out of commission for awhile. After a case of laryngitis a few years ago, I thought being a mom without a voice was challenging; but being a farm mom without two good hands is even worse.

But, amidst the challenges, there are always joys.

Our first two red and white calves of the year were born.

We finally got the cows out to pasture.

Dan and Monika's classes took a field trip to our farm.

Dan got on the bus for the last day this school year and graduated from Kindergarten.

A new month is right around the corner. I'm hoping for more joys and less challenges.