Devil’s Detail

God doesn’t want this crop. But the devil does.

We have the wettest spring on record. Since I’ve been farming the last thirty five years. I’m pretty sure that’s official. Around here it’s being compared to the only spring I was over in the Med, 1980. Chipping paint and swinging booms. And not paying attention to the weather past how to dress that day.

I was able to slip another 100 acres of seed beans into the ground on Sunday. The second Sunday in a row I’ve had to do that. I remember back when the Priest had to give the congregation permission to work on Sundays. Back in the ’60s I remember an older brother talking about that being why we had to do more than just chores on a particular Sunday. Out back fixing fence.

That’s why I say the devil must want this crop. Here in God’s country we’re putting in full days on the Lord’s Day. But think about it, they all belong to Him. If we count the raining days as days off we got the one in seven thing covered. Personally I’m counting the doctor ordered healing days as my sabbatical.

So I can grow the devil his crop.

Then, there



‘Sno Fall

There’s not even been an Indian Summer. When they flip the switch they really flip the switch these days. We went straight from 80’s plus to the teens. We warmed up a bit before Christmas but that was after a near blizzard on the first of December. I really thought I was shut out of the cornfield until spring.

Speaking of which …….

Last spring we came out of winter into summer quite the same way we exited summer. Like they flipped a switch somewhere and presto chango we were warm. They’re going to have to do a little better job of camouflage or the plebs will catch on. DJ will call it a national emergency …….

No more prescription weather.

I heard the talking heads say that we could be in for an unprecedented seventh year of record crop yields. I say it’s not unprecedented. I say it happened long ago. Back then the Lord sent signs and saw to it someone could interpret those signs. Oh, Joe where are you now?

It’s cold but it’s January. ‘Sno denying.

See ya then, see ya there.




Of Snow.

Missed it by that much. The undone corn run. Ground to a halt by the December storm. Snow. Concrete like. Stucco like. Fuckoed like. After maybe an inch of rain on top of a few quick hard inches of wet thick sticky snow. Freezing rain. On muddy ground fell a large deposit of more wet heavy sticky blowing and wind driven snow. Then a week of below freezing temperatures. That’s how much I missed it by on that last hundred plus acres of what’s been a good corn run. As corn runs go.

Then, there.