Well, here I sit, before my keyboard at 3:00 a.m., its been up about twenty minutes or so and am waiting on the coffee to finish up. I just turned on the Daily Farm Report and was on my knees last night praying for rain, it’s either get that bounty from God, or I’m going to have to get out soon and crank up the irrigation system.
I like this time of the morning, it’s the time when captive souls take flight and it’s also the time for quiet and for to listen to this side of the world stretch and begin the waking cycle.
I farm, that’s what I do, my living comes from the soil, my food, my clothing, etc. etc. etc. etc. Now before you go off half cocked and want to start pointing fingers at me or any of my breed about rising food prices, yada, yada, yada. I have to admit that I am ashamed of most of those that call themselves farmers.
They poison the soil, the air and the water with their inorganic chemical fertilizers, their inorganic pesticides and inorganic herbicides, not to mention they get as careless as a bunch of monkeys at a fire drill with their diesel and gasoline fueled vehicles.
In the thirty years I have been doing what I do, not one time have I resorted to using poisons that will not biodegrade and I damn sure have not polluted the water or the air with inorganics of any type.
Now, last year I took a helluva hit in the drought that still persists in the South-East, and that fact alone made me realize that I needed a reality check.
I was luckier than some, and damned more fortunate than most, I had two irrigation ponds full of water and I was able to keep my, albeit, scaled down fields watered fairly well. However, I read the graffiti like scrawlings on the wall and most of what I grew last year, ended up in good old American Mason Jars and my basement looks like a subterranean grocery. This year so far is shaping up to be just a little better than last year, but this old boy ain’t holding his breath.
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