Threshing Bee

"Hurry up! We need to get ready so we can go to the threshing bee."

"Mommy...can we just do something normal?"

"We ARE doing something normal!"

"No," he shook his head slowly. "We're not."
 
When Michelle posted on Facebook that Jack Creek Farms was hosting a threshing bee using their antique thresher and selling wheatberries 30 pounds for $10, I did two things.  First, I googled wheatberries and recipes using wheatberries and then I erased everything we had on the calendar and inked in "Threshing Bee".

Side note:  For all of you mid-west readers who are laughing at my excitement over something you must see all the time, keep giggling.  You may also get a kick out of our snow chains stories.

I have a "thing" about history and discovering how my predecessors lived.  I get swept away by the idea of a simpler life; a life full of hard work, hard play and the satisfaction of providing for your family in a concrete, physical way.  The idea that at the end of the day, you can have quarts of neatly labels jars, rows of corn planted or a line filled with laundry have taken on a romantic aspect in our high tech, hustling world.

Of course, I also know I can't live without my washing machine, my computer and air conditioner.

Still...I can pretend.  And take baby steps towards a a less processed way of life.

Saturday dawned cool with a promise of triple digit heat in the air.  I loaded up the kids, having the above conversation with my eldest and drove to the Farm.  After a stop at the General Store for frozen apple cider, we walked to the fields to join the crowds swarming to watch the wheat harvest.

I had researched threshing and the harvest process and then shared my information with a Joseph who was much more interested in the free hard candy at the store.  It was fascinating watching the old fashioned combines, one of which sported wooden "paddles", criss-cross their way across the fields. 

After gathering the wheat into a great golden pile, workers shoveled it into a threshing machine with pitch forks.  This giant machine filled 100 lb. bags in minutes, shooting golden straw into the air.

Side note:  And, because it's my children we're talking about, I made sure that I gave the kids allergy meds before going.  *sigh*

A sewer grabbed the full bags and whipped stitched it closed in quick, sure movements.  We brought our bag lined buckets to a pile of burlap and watched as the farmer poured the wheatberries in.  It was beautiful.  We couldn't resist plunging our hands into the honey-colored wheat.  The smell was intoxicating - sweet and earthy - as the hot summer sun baked down on us.

Michelle and Tara lugged the buckets to our trucks, while I waited with the kids, watching the thresher work it's magic.

I'm now the proud owner of 30 pounds of wheat berries.  It's full of chaff and needs a good winnowing.  (Please note that I'm learning the lingo.)  I'm waiting for a windy day.  Supposedly, all we'll have to do is pour it out a bit at a time on a clean sheet and then toss it gently into the air.  The chaff will blow away, leaving the wheatberries behind.

Chad's thrilled.

And I'm a bit overwhelmed. I need to find some way to grind at least twenty pounds into flour.  I'll save the rest whole for use in salads and breakfast.

I told Joseph how exciting it is for us to see the wheat harvested, threshed and poured into our bucket.  I told him how we'd winnow the chaff from the grain.  I explained how we'd clean the wheat and grind it into flour that I'll use to bake bread or cookies.  He may not think it's a "normal" thing to do on a Saturday morning, but how wonderful is it that he'll know exactly where his bread came from?