By Lacey Vilhauer

Ingredients:
FOR THE CHIPS
4 yellow squash, cut into rounds
1/4 c. olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Pinch red pepper flakes
1 c. panko
1 c. shredded Parmesan
2 tbsp. Freshly chopped parsley
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
FOR THE DIPPING SAUCE
1 c. sour cream
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tbsp. freshly chopped parsley
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 400° and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a large bowl toss together squash and olive oil. Season generously with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes.
2. In a shallow bowl mix together panko, Parmesan, and parsley. One at a time dip squash into panko mixture, pressing to coat then place on prepared baking sheet.
3. Bake until golden and crispy, 30 minutes, flipping halfway through. Meanwhile make dipping sauce: In a small bowl, stir together sour cream, lemon juice, and parsley. Season with salt and pepper. Serve chips with dipping sauce.

By Dal Houston

When we moved out into the country 17 years ago, the area around our house did not have one single tree around it; it was nothing but a wheat field. The wind and the dirt, from miles around, hit the house with nothing to break it, and I sometimes wondered if the house would blow away. The inside of the house required a thorough dusting every day. Trees do more than just provide a break from the wind. They provide privacy.

I remember people driving by and being able to see our every move, whether we were sitting on the front porch or at the dining room table, watching television, or if the kids were playing in the yard. We felt that we were on full display for the whole world. So, shortly after moving there, I started planting and transplanting trees to break the wind and to give us some privacy.

At the time, the trees were so small, and my actions seemed so insignificant. I figured we would be old and dead before those tiny trees could ever grow to a size sufficient to serve their purpose.

To read more, pick up a copy of the August issue of NTFR magazine. To subscribe by mail, call 940-872-5922.

By Bryce Angell

Every year, each spring, my job was stretching up barbed wire. And every year I’d dream that we could put it up for hire.
I like to call it stretching wire but it’s really fixing fence. And we never bought new posts and wire. Wouldn’t meet the farm expense.
The worn, and rusty, coarse barbed wire would break with every bend. So, we stitched the wire right from the start until the very end.
One day I mustered courage. Said, “It’s time to buy new fence. It’s like patching up Methusala. It don’t make a lot of sense.”
My father always listened. He gave credence to what I’d say. But never did I dream he’d buy new fencing on that day.
So he drove our ‘69 Cornbinder, two-ton flatbed truck to Cal Ranch for new posts and wire, I guess to my good luck.
That night I dreamed of fixing fence with not an end in sight. When my sleep was interrupted barely 6 o’clock daylight.
My father hollered loud enough to soundly wake the dead. “It’s time to get a movin’ because people die in bed.”
I’d heard him yell a thousand times ‘bout people, death and bed. That was our morning ritual before we all got fed.
He said, “We’ve got some work to do up by the north-end gate. But I need to be away in town, so build the fences straight.”
My dad was kinda fussy ‘bout his fences straight in line. He said, “The fence that’s crooked sure ain’t no fence of mine.”
Back then we had no auger that would drill a fence post hole. You used a bar and shovel, kept your cussing in control.
That day I dug near 20 posts but held back all my brag. ‘Cuz looking down the fence my posts were planted in zig zag.
Well sure enough my father said, “Your posts have character. Were they drunk or did they suffer from a genuine hangover?”
His laughter was contagious and thank heaven he weren’t mad. He never showed his anger. He was that kind of Dad.
And then the 20 posts were pulled along with all my pride. But my father helped replant ‘em. He was right there by my side.
So then I wore new glasses. They were bound to be my fate. But they didn’t solve the problem ‘cuz my fence line still weren’t straight.