There is still more work than daylight (even with 16 hours of sunshine) that needs to be done, but unlike planting and harvest time the world doesn't "end" if you have to slide something into the next day.
The crops are looking pretty good. Our land has good drainage, and is high enough that high water hasn't flooded or drowned any of the seeds or young plants so we are blessed with a crop that looks good for this early in the growing season.
Scotty's spending time maintaining the equipment in between the morning and afternoon milking. I told him the other day about the new equipment I saw at a Dairy breakfast a few weeks ago, where the cows actually milk themselves.
Who could have imagined that way back when we needed to carry a stool and a bucket and milk each cow with two hands?
That's amazing technology in my mind.
The equipment costs a ton of money, but from what I've learned so far the cows give more milk and it takes fewer hired hands to do the milking so they can help get other work done on the farm.
Sounds like a working smarter, not working harder situation to me.
We need a great season to even consider it, but consider the thought planted in the mind of the head man around here.
No, that's not me anymore. We sold the farm to Scotty and Rich a few years back, and we get to live here on the place and get some income as we go along year to year. It's working out well so far.
I'm going out later in the John Deere Gator to make a circuit of all the fields and walk a few rows of crops as well to see for myself if we need to get busy with any fertilizer, herbicide, or pesticide.
We are cutting way back on the chemicals on our farm. It seems like the right thing to do for the land and for our future. But, it's tough to make that jump all at once, since we need to make a living and keep the yields as high as possible.
I like getting out by myself in the small four by four with a thermos of Mt. Dew - it's peaceful and a good opportunity to check out wildlife and the growing bounty of food.
Our small herd of cattle seems to be adapting to the summer weather - circulating around the pasture to eat and taking turns at the tank kept full by the 1928 windmill my grandfather built before the Depression.
Later on, I'm going to get in touch with Oscar who is the biggest bike aficionado I know around here. While talking at the cafe earlier this week I heard about a big ride near Lake Michigan raising money to fight Leukemia, and I think with the right bit of friendly persuasion we might be able to get Oscar to go ride it for us and our friends, John and Julie Johnson.
I've got a good feeling about it, and maybe I can figure out how to go along with him.
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