Dean Tofteland is a family farmer who raises pigs in southwestern Minnesota.

I wore green today. It must be my lucky day because I thought yesterday was St. Patrick's day. If I was Irish, I would've known better. Green is a good color.

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Green is also the "color of money," but do you know the "smell of money"? I do.

I'm a pig farmer.

My family and I own and raise hogs in southwestern Minnesota. We belong to a group of independent family farmers called the Pipestone System who organized together to raise a better pig and produce pork with greater flavor and tenderness.

Our farm raises about 7,200 pigs per year, which is about the same as the other members of our system. My pigs represent a very important part of making a living on my farm.

Early in this century, my grandparents came from Norway to settle on a farm nearby. Although my father could speak Norwegian, all I really mastered was the table grace. (Our kids are carrying on that tradition.)

After Grandpa died, my dad worked in town for 16 years, until he bought a small farm and began farming again. So the saying "you can take a boy off the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy" rings true. I guess you would call me the third generation.

Today, I reside on the farm with my wife Jennifer, three children, and a dog. I guess we are pretty typical of farm families. We have pig chores morning and evening and often in between. The whole family is involved in the farm. Spring planting and the harvest are especially busy, stressful, and fun all wrapped together. We always have a freezer full of our home-raised pork and share it at every occasion. And like other farmers, we like tractors, and their color is important. My tractors are red, but other farmers have green tractors. Maybe they are Irish?

Tonight, after a family swim at the county pool, we stopped at the local Taco John's for a "six-pack and a pound," and I even had to have a meaty burrito on top of it all. Really, the kids probably could justify that extra mass of fatty calories, but for me it just seemed I needed something more. Maybe subconsciously I knew that I would need some kind of extra energy tomorrow morning while wrestling with those 260-pound market hogs.

Yes, tomorrow is the beginning of what we call Pig Week. For starters, that means in the morning I will try to convince a population of 185 hogs weighing in at 260 pounds to voluntarily leave the only home they have known for over half their lives.

I hope to ask them to walk quietly out of the door, leaving behind a dry and warm climate-controlled dwelling. I will try to coax them to forever leave their residence, furnished with fresh cool water on demand and an unlimited supply of great tasting, home-grown meals offered any time, day or night.

This may be a challenge. Perhaps I can reason with them. Would it be a mistake to tell them they were going to be the honored guests—featured on the itinerary of Fred's Famous Pork Chops Restaurant?

I suppose at the very least I could tell them that this is finally their chance to see the "big city"!

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, isn't it?

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