We’ve spent every weekend in August in the hayfield, plus a good number of weekdays. A few days ago, as I climbed onto the tractor, I realized I’d forgotten my AirPods. Go ahead and yell at me for not wearing the most proper hearing protection – I know I’ll probably regret it one day when I’m saying “huh?” every other sentence – but they are noise-canceling, and I like the playlist that comes with it. Some is better than none, am I right? So, I went to the farm truck, where my dad keeps the foam and earmuff headphones, and grabbed an extra pair.

I wasn’t thrilled about working without music. Normally, I like having something to listen to. Music makes the hours pass quicker, and a sing-along never hurts. Plus, no one can hear how atrocious my singing is with the equipment running. But that day, I was stuck with nothing but the muffled hum of the tractor. At first, I groaned at the thought of sitting alone with my thoughts. Then I realized how rare that is.

Sure, quiet time with some birds chirping or crickets and bullfrogs singing would be much more peaceful, but you make do with what you’ve got. The quiet gave me space to think and notice things I often overlook. The thing is, most people will never know how aesthetically pleasing a field full of perfectly straight hay windrows can be or how special the view from a tractor seat really is. Those simple things become even more special when you let the noise fade and give yourself a chance to appreciate them.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the boost a good playlist brings is much needed – and for farmers, always well deserved. But we spend so much time trying to stay entertained that we forget the value of letting our thoughts wander. That day, my mind wandered plenty. I thought about what it means to have a place to call home and what home will look like for me in the years ahead. I wondered how many generations before me had sat in this same field. I pictured what tedding hay would have looked like a century ago, with horses instead of tractors, and how much harder the work would have been. I thought about how much I appreciate this way of life, and how different my days feel when I’m away from it. Coming home had already put me in a reflective mood, but that time in the tractor brought it all into sharper focus.

Maybe that’s something we should all do more often: Step back from the noise and just think. Sometimes, it takes quiet to reveal the clarity and gratitude we didn’t know we had been missing.

---

Samantha Stamm is the 2025 Hoard’s Dairyman editorial intern. She co-owns and manages an Angus seedstock and commercial cow-calf operation with her family in northeast Kentucky. Stamm earned a master's degree in agricultural communications from Oklahoma State University and a bachelor's degree in agribusiness with a dual major in animal science from Morehead State University.