Last weekend, the race was on.
June 1st was fast approaching, and the soybean fields still weren’t all planted. It’s been such a rainy spring that parts of the county have just been too wet to get into. Every day that passed was one less growing day—a hit to the potential of the crop. So needless to say, the stress was running high.
But finally, a window of opportunity opened up. A couple of days of dry weather before the next rain. Every farmer in the area felt the same thing: it was go time. Plans were cancelled. Other jobs postponed. There was literally nothing more important to us than getting that seed in the ground.
As the saying goes, “The seed won’t grow in the bags.”
The tractors were fueled. The planters were filled. And it was time.
You know what else it was time for? For me to not feel well.
Anne says it’s stress—and she’s probably right. It’s happened before, right around planting time. Not life-threatening, but the kind of situation that requires you to stay very close to a bathroom for a few days. I’ll spare you the details.
So, what to do?
Well, time to call in the family.
The bat signal went out to our son Ezdon. Thankfully it was the weekend, and he could give some time to the task at hand. Saturday after work, he dug into planting the last 62-acre field and finished up late Sunday afternoon. What a relief that was!
Grandma stepped in, as always, ready with meals and support. Anne—besides packing orders all weekend—was on full chore duty, keeping everything else running. Tess came through in the clutch for the big finish: labelling and delivering all the week’s lamb orders to Purolator for shipping.
And that, right there, is why we’re called Ewing Family Farm.
It’s not just a name. It’s a real family, out there, getting it done.
I don’t say it enough, but I’m incredibly thankful for my crew—Anne, Ezdon, Tess, and Grandma—for stepping up this past weekend without hesitation. I might’ve been sidelined, but they kept the whole farm rolling. From planting fields to packing orders, from meals to muddy chores—they carried the weight like pros. I’m proud of the work we do here—but even more proud of the people I get to do it with.
And to all of you who support us—whether it’s with a kind word, a lamb order, or just by reading these stories—you’re part of this farm too. Thank you for being here.
—Farmer Rod
The Soybeans Couldn’t Wait... and Neither Could I
