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My World at 1.4 Miles Per Hour

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By Annette Bridges

I was watching a television interview with a Texas rancher when he said something that made me stop what I was doing. I paused the program, rewound it, and listened again. “It’s great to enjoy the world at 1.4 miles per hour.” As soon as I heard those words, I knew they were speaking to me. They gave simple, well-chosen language to something I already understood—feelings I had carried and conclusions I had reached after forty-five years of living on our cattle ranch.

He was sitting on his tractor when he said it, smiling a little, making reference to the slow, steady speed of a machine built for work, not hurry. And maybe that’s why it settled so deeply into my heart—because I know that speed well.

One of my greatest joys of life on our cattle ranch has been driving my beloved red tractor while picking up square bales. There’s no rushing involved. The tractor putters along slowly, steadily, just fast enough to move forward but slow enough that nothing feels missed. I can ease ahead, line up the bale loader, make small adjustments, and never feel pressed for time.

At 1.4 miles per hour, the world opens up.

I glance toward the pasture and see calves playing chase, kicking up dust like they’ve discovered joy for the first time. I spot a calf nursing its mama, that quiet, instinctive moment that somehow feels sacred every single time. Sometimes it’s two “bestie” mamas grazing side by side, comfortable in each other’s company, reminding me that companionship doesn’t always require words.

From the tractor seat, I notice things I would never see if I were moving faster. The sun beginning its slow descent, casting a golden glow across the field. Birds perched on square bales, patiently waiting their turn to be picked up. The sound of geese or ducks flying overhead, announcing their presence long before I see them cross the sky.

There isn’t much I miss at that speed.

When I first came to living on the ranch after getting married, I didn’t immediately appreciate the slower pace. In fact, I often felt impatient with it. Chores felt like something to get through, not something to linger in. I was usually in a hurry to finish the task at hand so I could move on to what I thought was the fun part of the day. The slowness felt like an obstacle, not a gift. It would take many years—many seasons—before I began to realize what that pace was quietly offering me all along.

The tractor doesn’t allow hurry. It insists on patience. It teaches you to work with the land instead of racing across it. And somewhere between bale after bale, I learned that slowing down isn’t about doing less—it’s about seeing more.

At 1.4 miles per hour, your senses wake up. Your thoughts quiet down. You stop multitasking and start noticing. Joy doesn’t rush in loudly; it shows up gently, in scenes that might look ordinary to someone moving too fast to care.

I think that’s why that rancher’s words stayed with me. They captured something I’ve been learning all along—that there’s a richness to life that only reveals itself at a slower pace. A pace where your eyes are open, your heart is present, and your mind isn’t already racing ahead to the next task.

In a world that celebrates speed and hustle, choosing to putter along can feel almost countercultural. But from my seat on my beloved red tractor, moving at 1.4 miles per hour, it feels like a gift.

Because there is so much more to see when you slow down enough to notice.

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Country Lifestyles

Canning 101

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By NTFR Staff

It seems to happen every summer. The garden suddenly produces more tomatoes, cucumbers and green beans than anyone could possibly eat, and before long someone asks, “Maybe I should learn to can?”

For many families, canning is a tradition passed down for generations. For others, it’s a new hobby that offers the satisfaction of stocking pantry shelves with homegrown food. Either way, getting started can feel overwhelming. Pressure canners, boiling water baths, jars, lids, processing times and safety recommendations are enough to make anyone wonder where to begin.

Home canning isn’t difficult once you understand the basics.

Canning preserves food in sealed jars by heating them to destroy microorganisms and create a vacuum seal. The USDA approves only two methods for home canning: boiling water bath canning and pressure canning. Which one you use depends entirely on what you’re preserving.

A boiling water bath is exactly what it sounds like. You submerge filled jars completely in boiling water and process them for a specific amount of time. Because boiling water only reaches 212 degrees Fahrenheit at sea level, this method is safe only for foods that are naturally high in acid or have enough added acid to prevent dangerous bacteria from growing.

That makes water bath canning a good fit for jams, jellies, fruit preserves, pickles, chutneys, fruit butters and many tomato products that have the proper amount of bottled lemon juice or citric acid added according to a tested recipe.

Pressure canning works differently. A sealed canner traps steam, and the temperature climbs well above the boiling point of water to about 240 degrees Fahrenheit. That higher temperature is necessary to destroy Clostridium botulinum spores, which can survive ordinary boiling and produce the toxin that causes botulism.

Because of that, you must pressure can low-acid foods such as green beans, corn, carrots, potatoes, meats, poultry, seafood and soups. A boiling water bath isn’t safe for these foods, no matter how long you boil the jars.

For most beginners, water bath canning is the easiest place to start. The equipment costs less, the process is simpler and recipes like strawberry jam or dill pickles are forgiving enough to build confidence. Many people who enjoy preserving fruit eventually buy a pressure canner once they want to put up vegetables or homemade stock.

Pressure canning doesn’t need to be intimidating, either. Modern pressure canners include multiple built-in safety features and are far different from the exploding canners in the old stories many people heard decades ago. Like any kitchen tool, they’re safe when used according to the manufacturer’s directions and with tested recipes.

Whichever method you choose, one rule never changes: always use recipes that have been scientifically tested. Family recipes may taste wonderful fresh, but they aren’t always safe for canning. Changing ingredient amounts, thickening soups with flour, adding extra vegetables or reducing vinegar can all affect the safety of the finished product. The USDA and the National Center for Home Food Preservation remain the gold standards for home canning recipes and processing recommendations.

Today’s recommendations may also differ from the ones your grandparents followed. Research has improved over the years, and food safety guidance has changed with it. Methods like open-kettle canning, oven canning and sealing jars by turning them upside down are no longer considered safe for shelf-stable foods.

If you’ve never canned before, you don’t have to preserve an entire garden your first weekend. Start with one recipe. Learn how to prepare the jars, measure headspace, remove air bubbles and process them correctly. Once you hear that satisfying “ping” as the lids seal, you’ll understand why so many people find canning rewarding.

Opening a jar of peaches in January or serving homemade salsa long after the tomatoes are gone is a special kind of reward. With a little knowledge, the right equipment and a commitment to tested recipes, anyone can preserve the harvest safely for months to come.

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Country Lifestyles

S’mores Brownies

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By Lacey Vilhauer

Ingredients

Graham Cracker Crust

  • 1 cup pulverized graham crackers (about 6 graham crackers, blended or food processed)
  • 1/3 cup butter, melted
  • 1/4 cup brown sugar

Brownies

  • 12 Tbsp butter
  • 1 cup brown sugar, lightly packed
  • 3/4 cup white sugar
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 1/2 tsp vanilla
  • 1/4 cup flour
  • 1 cup cocoa powder
  • 1 cup milk chocolate chips

Toppings

  • 4 Hershey’s bars
  • 1 (10-ounce) bag mini marshmallows

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease an 8×8 baking pan.

Graham Cracker Crust: Pulverize graham crackers and stir in melted butter. Stir in brown sugar. Press into the bottom of the baking pan and set aside.

Brownies: In a heavy saucepan, melt butter and stir in white and brown sugars. Stir over medium heat for 1 to 2 minutes, until sugar starts to dissolve. Remove from heat and add vanilla. Add eggs one at a time, whisking each into the sugar and butter mixture. Add flour and cocoa powder and stir together. Fold in chocolate chips. Pour brownie mixture over the graham cracker crust. Bake for 40 minutes.

Remove from oven and turn oven to broil. Immediately lay chocolate bars over the top and cover them with mini marshmallows (or cut-up large marshmallows). Broil for one to two minutes, watching closely so they don’t burn, and remove once brown. Let cool.

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Country Lifestyles

Pray in the Hallway

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By Ada William

A few weeks ago in church, our preacher shared a line that has stayed with me ever since.

“If you’re wondering what door to walk through, pray in the hallway.”

He was quoting someone else, and I did not catch the original source. I did, however, catch the message.

Most of us have stood in that hallway at one time or another. We know something is changing, but we do not know what comes next. There may be several doors in front of us, and none of them are clearly marked. We ask God to show us which one to open, but the answer does not always come as quickly as we would like.

Waiting is hard. People who live and work in rural communities understand waiting better than most. Farming, ranching and caring for animals require patience. You can prepare the ground, plant the seed and pray for rain, but you cannot force a crop to grow overnight. You can breed the best mare to the best stallion, provide good feed and proper care, and still wait nearly a year to see the foal. You can put up hay, repair fences and prepare barns, but you cannot control what kind of winter is coming.

Rural life involves a great deal of faith. You do your part, and then you wait.

Of course, waiting does not mean doing nothing. A farmer does not plant a field and ignore it until harvest. There are weeds to control, equipment to maintain and weather forecasts to watch. A rancher waiting for a calf crop still checks cattle, watches the condition of the cows and makes sure the calving pasture is ready.

The waiting season has work of its own.

I think the same is true when we wait on God to show us what comes next. Praying in the hallway means more than standing still and staring at the doors. It means using that time to draw closer to God, listen carefully and prepare ourselves for whatever He may ask us to do.

Sometimes I want an immediate answer. I want God to make the right door obvious, open it wide and hang a large sign above it that says, “This way.”

That is not usually how it works.

Sometimes the hallway lasts longer than we expected. A job opportunity does not come through. A relationship changes. A plan we felt certain about falls apart. A prayer seems to go unanswered.

It can be tempting to grab the nearest doorknob because we are tired of waiting.

Anyone who has worked cattle knows that pushing too hard at the wrong time usually creates more trouble. Cattle move better when the handler pays attention to pressure, timing and position. There are moments to step forward and moments to back away. Trying to force movement before the path is clear can scatter the whole herd.

I have had times in my own life when I tried to force a door open because I was convinced it was the one I needed. Other times, I hesitated to step through a door because it was not the one I had pictured.

Looking back, I can see that some closed doors were protection. Some delays were preparation. Some unanswered prayers were answered differently than I expected.

Waiting doesn’t get easier, but the hallway is not wasted space.

The hallway may be where God changes our plans. It may be where He strengthens our faith, corrects our attitude or teaches us to depend on Him instead of our own understanding. It may be where we finally become quiet enough to hear what He has been saying all along.

Rural life teaches us that there is a season for everything. There is a time to plant and a time to harvest, a time to mend fence and a time to move cattle. There is a time to work, a time to wait and a time to trust that God is still handling what we cannot see.

When the right door opens, we may understand why the others stayed closed. We may also never fully understand, at least not in this life. Either way, we can trust the One who sees beyond the hallway.

When I find myself unsure of what comes next, I hope I remember the words I heard that Sunday morning. I may not know which door to walk through or when it will open, but I know what I can do while I wait.

I can pray in the hallway.

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