Somehow, the depth of this winter has left me feeling more relieved than years past, when scarce snowfall and odd temperature fluctuations left me stressed, rather than at peace with a consistent northeastern tundra. 

The snow this year, while surprising to some, has felt like the winters I grew up with—feet of powdery snow, lasting temperatures and the kind of winter we all try to prepare for. It’s the kind of winter that one can snuggle into after plowing the driveway and feeding the animals. Like a dustsheet over an old bookcase, the snow blankets the land and hides all the things we might otherwise see that cause us to drum up projects and keep busy. 

Sure, there is plenty to do in the winter, but when the static white shrouds obscure the canvas, the painter has nothing else to do than brew some fresh coffee and enjoy the respite. 

However, we are farmers, not painters, and so even in our rest we find some slight course of action to satisfy our need to progress. On this occasion, many of us farmers gathered in the same place to learn, for fellowship, and of course to eat.

It was a fortuitously clear day at the 47th annual Ag Day in Wayne County, PA. My wife, who has coordinated the event for the past decade, had me there early helping to finish setting up, and I was more than happy to see some faces I’d not seen in quite a while. There were representatives from Penn State, 4-H members, dealers, millers, local resources and more. Throughout the event, there was no shortage of friendly peers with whom to while away the time between lectures. 

Whether you already knew a handful about the topics or not, there were still plenty of tidbits to pick up, no matter the subject. I attended a water-bath canning lecture by Master Preserver volunteer Maryann Curtis. While my wife and I do a lot of canning ourselves, it was interesting to hear about the latest and greatest recommendations for various processes from Penn State as well as from industry leaders like the Ball jar company. I was particularly curious to find that it was now the official recommendation to not sterilize jars that would be processed for over 10 minutes. Nothing revolutionary, but it’s these little details that save you a few minutes or make things work properly down the road as we get back to doing what we do. 

I made it to lunch before most and enjoyed some conversation with Zach Curtis, the Wayne County agronomist, and Craig Williams of Tioga County, PA, who also works for Penn State. Both had lectures of their own during the day and also held Q&As at their booth in the vendor hall, answering farmers’ questions about topics ranging from poultry welfare and management to crop production and hay quality. While some of these topics may seem dull or unchanging, the reality is that the ag industry changes rapidly, if only regarding our overall understanding of the sciences that support it. When it comes to farming for a living, knowledge is the greatest tool you can accrue. 

I was pleased to see a steady line of folks at the local-products bar in between vendors and lectures, sampling the items that had been donated by local producers to showcase what Wayne County actually makes. There was milk from Creamworks Dairy, cheese made at Calkins Creamery, and smoked meats donated by Hardler Farm and processed by yours truly, Hillstead Farm. All I could think when I passed the table was how badly I wanted to make a snack pack with my summer sausage and the Vampire Slayer hot cheese curds from Calkins Creamery. If you couldn’t guess, that’s one of my favorites.

The way out here, Presidents’ Day is shared with Ag Day, as it has been for nearly half a century. If you’re not a farmer but want to see what all the fuss is about, the doors are open to you as well. You can sign up next year by pre-registering with the extension office, and at the event you’ll learn all about who feeds your neighbors and how. We farmers are a friendly lot and tend not to shy away from a good chat, but catch us in the wintertime when the hay isn’t growing, and you’ll see just how much of a jabberjaw each of us can be, especially in the midst of our own little celebration of sorts.