Chapter 1 Life on the Farm

It's quiet, but not for long. 

Every spring it's the same thing.

Mud.

Lots of mud.

Mud that climbs up my pant leg and down into the boots before oozing into my wool socks and in between my toes.  It's not even 7 in the morning and I need to change my footwear.

The tractor coughs a few times, but finally springs to life.  Belts spinning, shocks groaning, and inflated tires crawling across the floor and out the barn door into the still cold and toward the very wet fields.

This year the plan is to plant sunflowers on the back forty.  The price of sunflower oil looks good for later in the year and the price is already optioned for harvest time.

Everything seems like a gamble on the farm.  Worse than Vegas or one of those Native American Casinos - heck, there's one on the other side of the city and I think I could make more money spending the spring planting loan at the blackjack table than putting crops in the ground.

It's too early to actually drive the John Deere into the fertile fields created by the glacial till left behind the glaciers when they retreated after wintering in south Wisconsin.

But the tractor needs to work out the kinks, and truth be told, I need to get behind the wheel again to reorient myself to the idiosyncrasies of how this 1958 tractor works.

There are newer models that would cover a lot more ground, but it doesn't feel like farming when you have a heated cab and satellite radio to keep you company.  I much prefer the cold wind in my face and hearing the baying of the coyote and watching Sandhill Cranes rise from the fields and into the sky.

The J.D. model 520 would look better these days in a Fourth of July parade than this field, but we've been partners so long now it would feel wrong to plant without it.

Now, I don't plant the whole place with it anymore, but for the back forty I won't use anything else.  This patch of land is special - a place where city kids can come out and watch what happens as seeds germinate, grow, and become crops in the span of a short Wisconsin growing season.

I'm practically an antique myself these days, so this tractor and I are a matched set, you might say.

The turn around the outside of the field went pretty well for a first time out.  Time to put it back inside, wipe it down, check the fluids and the tires, and head in for some breakfast before getting on with my day.

(Chapter One... click here to keep reading)