On A July Morning
We’re making space, trucking out the old corn, getting ready for the new. I’ll be honest, I’m selling five and seven dollar corn for only four but they were my gambling stocks. The few seven dollar bushels that is. Back when I thought we would be hauling I was getting five dollars for last year’s corn. Now the price is close to last fall’s harvest price. So in effect I was gambling on those bushels and lost the buck I’d won. Twenty percent loss. After a twenty five percent gain. Aka breaking even. (Seriously, do the math) So far it’s been coming out of storage in good condition. One bin nearly down, five bins left to truck. Two of them are under thirty five hundred bushels so actually four bin equivalents left. Now I know why they call it a July Mourning. Mourning our loss. Chicago has taken the profits. Like it will do those fools any good. Anyone remember 2008? Pushing paper until they had derived a financial meltdown. Again.
The more I think about it, the time I gained by not having to wait on a truck last fall makes this a little better than breaking even. We got ahead. A little. But then ……. It’s not the distance, it’s the direction that counts.