Deep roots: Blaney family has nearly 250 years of farming history in Mon

Aug. 26—Moos and aahs.

Bruce Blaney knows how to draw a crowd.

He gathered a pretty sizable one, in fact, when he ducked around the fence at his Ringgold Farms expanse on Bull Run Road the other day.

That was when 15 or so Black Angus cattle ambled up to say hello.

The giant animals surrounded the slight-statured man, clamoring for pats and nuzzles, which Blaney was happy to oblige.

“Hey, kids, ” he said. “How’s it goin’?”

Farming for the ages The cattle didn’t realize it, but they were making history that day.

Ringgold Farms, which has been in the family of his late wife, Flossie, since 1921, had just earned a “Century Farm ” designation for its 102 years of existence from the West Virginia Conservation Agency.

It a historical two-fer: A couple of ridges over, on Joe’s Run Road, Blaney Farm, which was founded by Bruce Blaney’s great-grandfather in 1882, received the same recognition from the state.

Honoring longevity and the land in the Mountain State goes back to America’s 200th birthday in 1976.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture then recognized 38 West Virginia farms as “bicentennial farms, ” in celebration.

Now, West Virginia honors family farms that have been in continuous operation for 100 years, 150 years and 200 years, through the Century Farm marker, which is administered by the state soil conservation agency.

Agriculture in Almost Heaven The agency works to preserve and maintain West Virginia’s land, soil and water resources.

Besides the environmental impact, there’s also something else being saved: the narrative of family and place, which still resonates across the hills and hollows.

When Blaney dropped in at the Monongalia County soil conservation office to pick up the signs that will now be placed at both farms marking the designation, he was greeted by conservation officials from across the state, including West Virginia Agriculture Commissioner Kent Leonhardt.

Lunch was also served in his honor.

“I wasn’t expecting all this, ” laughed Blaney, who is 95 and still works at both farms every day.

“This is something.”

Something definitely worth celebrating, Leonhardt said.

“We need to honor the people working the land on farms that have been in their families for generations, ” the commissioner said.

In a place shadowed by tricky terrain for planting and fickle growing seasons for harvesting, West Virginia, according to numbers culled by the state Agricultural Overview, still boasted 22, 500 working farms last year.

“And we just picked up 200 more, ” Leonhardt said.

Deep roots Blaney, meanwhile, already has a history of his own. He’s looking forward to his 96th birthday next month.

In the waning days of World War II, where he served in Japan and the South Pacific with the U.S. Army Air Corps, he put up the radio and signal towers that enabled critical communication channels for the American forces.

Stateside and in West Virginia, he’s been a coal miner and heavy equipment operator.

As a union laborer, Blaney was on construction crews that put up bridges on Interstate 79.

He also helped build the WVU Engineering Sciences Building and the Fort Martin power station.

His deftness as a crane operator answered many a prayer, for many a congregation — as he put more than one church steeple into place during his time working the levers.

“He’s had a hand in a lot of major structures you see around Morgantown, ” said his daughter, Carye Blaney, who serves as Monongalia County’s clerk.

“But he always worked the farm, ” she said.

“If he had to drive out of town for a construction job, he’d be up a dawn, tending to all the chores first.”

Farm family Mon’s county clerk can tell you all about tending to chores.

Like all farm kids, Carye grew up working the farm alongside her siblings, Carole, who now lives in Harrisville, Ritchie County ; and Bruce Robert, whom everyone calls, “Jupe ” (the shortening of his childhood nickname, “Jupiter “), who resides at Ringgold and oversees the farm with his dad.

There were fields to plow and hay to put up — before and after school, and during the summers, especially.

Carye and her husband still work the farm with the father and son, during evenings and weekends.

Bruce and Flossie had 66 years together. She died in 2017.

They raised their kids on Ringgold Farm, which kept everyone especially busy, as it was a working dairy up to 1975.

“They met at a square dance, ” Carye said of her parents, “and that was it.”

Flossie was active in local politics and also worked on the U.S. Department of Agriculture Farm Service Agency Board for several years.

It was work, but it was fun, too.

Carye learned to drive by tooling around Ringgold’s 100-plus acres behind the wheel of a 1949 International Harvester truck.

Standard transmission.

No power steering.

And a suspension that made sure every bump, notch and divot was amplified to maximum discomfort.

“Yeah, it pretty much rode and handled like exactly what it was, ” the county clerk said, chuckling.

“But now I can drive anything.”

The schedule — is the schedule These days, Bruce Blaney is driven by agrarian rhythms: When to plant, when to harvest.

Rain, or no rain.

Record heat — and sudden frosts.

“I always had to work outside [other jobs ] to keep the farm going, ” he said.

“You oughta be able to make a living off farming, but you can’t. Not in my lifetime.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep up with him, ” Jupe said, grinning over at his dad.

What does the Blaney son do at the two family farms ?

“I’m the guy who climbs on stuff, ” he said, nodding in the direction of a flatbed trailer stacked with hay bales — 80 of them.

Bruce, the patriarch, still drives, even hauling cattle to market on occasion.

He gets out of bed every day, without fail, between 7 and 8 a.m., with no alarm clock or time clock.

And, Carye and Jupe marvel, he’s still in possession of a driver’s license and 20 /20 vision. His license is up for renewal four years from now. On his 100th birthday.

He plans on being at the Department of Motor Vehicles counter that day.

“Yep, ” he said. “In person.”

For now, though, there’s work to be done. There’s always work to be done. Ringgold Farms has 124 acres. Blaney Farm clocks in at 128. Lots of land to tend.

A nice, comfortable chair has its moments, he said, but it’s the day-to-day, outdoors, that sustains him.

“Dad, try not to walk so fast, ” Carye said, as the patriarch made a brisk pace to the barn.

“I don’t know how many canes I’ve bought him over the years, ” she said. “He won’t use ’em.”

Her dad grinned at that.

“Carye, ” he said, “you can’t work with a cane.” Off in the distance, an Angus mooed in the affirmative.