Rainy Day

Water falls from the heavens. A drizzle at first and then a little harder. The shop yard beckons the farmer, but there is little to be done in the steady drip of rain, so he stares silently through the rain speckled glass at the empty work area. The farmer, a little antsy and more than a little disappointed retires to the house to make another pot of coffee and breathe a silent prayer that the rain will go away for now....but return again in the drier days of July.

The tumultuous love affair between the farmer and the refreshing rains of spring and summer continues....

Work Day

Even the sandy soil of the Bootheel is hard on man-made metal contraptions. The equipment has seen better days. And the farmer is no spring chicken. But the work must be done. The tractor spits and sputters. Firing up with a cloud of gray. Lifting the Hipper with a groan. The farmer goes to work. Tugging. Grunts barely audible over the soft roar of the Case engine. The clickity-clack of a clamp. Then, the more rapid click of a come-along pulling blades that have slowly migrated out of position back into place. Hammering. Metal on metal. Clanging in rhythm. And, finally, welding. Electricity on metal. The sound of a thousand bumblebees buzzing around the crackle of a summer bonfire.

The symphony of a hard day's work on the farm.

Racing the Rain

The tractor, slow and steady, races the gathering rain clouds dancing overhead in gusts and gallops. A hurried step takes over the normally slower life of working the Earth. The farmer is torn....Between the need for water beneath the fields that will surely become a blessing during drier months, and the need to finish preparing the beds for planting....Between the need for rest and the knowledge that there will be plenty of time for rest after the water falls and halts the progression of the season.

The ever-present waltz between the farm family and the unpredictability of nature.

First Plow

The first plow of Spring. Ripping through the ground. Breaking the steely earth far below that never sees the light of day. Preparing the beds for new roots to run deep beneath the remnants of last year's stalks and winter's weeds. The past is present still -- tufts of white cotton fibers dotting the landscape. The future is near enough to smell. A fragrance of fresh soil and light rain. 

So begins the promise of another harvest.