In college, finding the perfect Halloween costume meant heading to the clearance section of the local big box store about an hour before leaving the house to see what we could find for a couple of bucks. As a parent, the conversations start months in advance and involve complicated negotiations.
This year, I tried to corner Tucker during the long ride home from World Dairy Expo to get him to settle on an idea.
“What do you want to be for Halloween?” I asked him, after the two little boys had fallen asleep.
“A builder. Or a wizard. Maybe a dragon. I’ve got a few weeks to decide,” he replied. Not really, kid. This mama needs at least a couple weeks of lead time for Halloween costumes. For a dragon, probably six months.
Halloween for me will always be a time for reflection. The changing of the season is in full swing, and there’s just enough time between the end of harvest and the beginning of winter to remember. Halloween reminds me of how much our family has changed – we laugh, comparing the kiddos running down the sidewalk to the previous year’s unsure toddlers. We remember the year the two older boys dressed as cows – one beef cow, one dairy cow. I remember last year when the boys, prompted by the Harry Potter CDs we listen to in the barn, dressed as Harry Potter and Dobby the house elf. Every time Tucker was offered two pieces of candy, my heart burst as he turned to share a piece with his little brother. Halloween is a snapshot of one year to the next in our busy family life.
I reflect on the way that our farm has changed through all these Halloweens. From feeding freshly weaned calves on a rented lot before trick-or-treating to milking 20 cows, then 50 cows, on our own farm before leaving. We walk through the leaves littering the sidewalks in town and reminisce about the summer that has just ended, seeing people we haven’t seen since the county fair. The chill in the air reminds us that winter is coming. It’s a sobering thought.
The kids who are combing through their candy haul will be stuck in the house; the leaves in the air will turn into snowflakes. Chores will take longer; the days will be shorter. The days will be a constant battle of falling temperature and frozen waterers. More feed will be hauled into the tiestall and more manure will be hauled away. In the spring, summer and fall, farmers work with Mother Nature; in the winter, we seem to do battle with her. Perhaps proving that we are worthy of living to farm another year. And in the spring will be another promise – another year of working together with the land and our children, doing what we love. The fall always reminds me of the dichotomy of spring and the quote that hangs in my barn, written by a man who grew up just a ridge away in Crawford County, Wisconsin:
“Once you have lived on the land, been a partner with its moods, secrets and seasons, you cannot leave. The living land remembers, touching you in unguarded moments, saying, ‘I am here. You are part of me.’” —Ben Logan, The Land Remembers
This year for Halloween, I’ll follow my little builder and chicken from house to house, while pushing a baby Holstein in a stroller. I’ll take time to reflect on the changes to our family and our farm, and look forward to the promise of the spring. 
Heather Moore is a dairy farming mama herself, raising three little boys with her husband, Brandon. The Moore family has a 50-cow dairy and custom feeds 800 head of beef cattle near Maquoketa, Iowa. When she is not chasing around cows and kids, you'll find her volunteering, cooking and very occasionally, sleeping.
PHOTO: The eldest Moore boys dressed as a beef cow and dairy cow. Photo provided by Heather Moore.
