Family Farm Friday #74: A Legacy

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.” ~ Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

It takes a long time and a lot of hard work to leave a legacy.

 

Back in the 1930's, my grandpa showed sheep.

In the 1950's, my grandpa and Gran bought our farm and started their own flock. 

 

In the 1960's and 1970's, my dad raised and showed lambs. 

 

In 1993, I showed my first home grown lamb at the county fair.  He ran over me in the ring, was not good, but somehow made the sale. 

I was quite the stylish child...stone washed shorts and red rockies.  Awesome.

In 1996, I went to my first State Fair.  I said then that I wanted to win a class there with a lamb we raised.  Everyone probably thought I was crazy.

In 2003, I won that class at the New Mexico State Fair with a lamb we raised.  The crazy girl's dream came true.

In 2006, Little Brother and Princess won Grand Champion at the Quay County Fair. 

In 2007, our adorable little blonde friend did the same thing at her very first lamb show with a cross we raised.  She was 9 years old.

In 2011, we won a class at the Arizona National Stock Show.

We've had lots of County Fair Grand Champions, State Fair class winners, and New Mexico Bred winners over the years.

But last week, when that little blonde friend, now all grown up, won our first ever breed champion at the State Fair. 

When I watched our little blonde friend jump up and down over winning that buckle, I felt like doing the same thing to celebrate what it meant to me.  That belt buckle she won is so much more than a belt buckle.

It's three generations.  Countless days and nights spent in a barn.  19 years since I first set foot in a show ring.  It's nights spent deciding breeding strategies.  It's wash rack moments.  It's trips to buy sheep with Mr. Franklin.  It's surviving "fair mode" and "crunch time."  It's getting up at 2 in the morning to go check ewes in the snow during lambing season and father/son road trips to Iowa to buy a ram and mom's non-stop bidding on ewe lambs at auctions.  It's dealing with ringworm on your arm, losing the starting setter spot after State Fair, and countless injuries to my poor face.  It's buying trailers full of hay and truck loads full of feed.  It's jumping in wool sacks and the sound of a quirt and Gran's playground whistle and barn red branding paint.  Wade's coaching and Dad's "meth lab" (what we called the feed room with all the different stuff we fed) and only taking vacations that involved stock shows and trailers.  It was my Gran and her two teenage sons keeping the farm going after my grandpa died.  It's friends and customers who have become like family to us. 

 

It's a legacy.  One dating back to the 1930's.  And one of which I think my grandparents would be pretty proud.