The alarm buzzes at 5:10 for a fourth morning in a row, and I am tired.
But my Country Man, who returned home at 10 pm last night for the third stretch in a row is even more tired, I know, and he pulls a white t-shirt over his messy bedhead and sleepily makes his way to the kitchen to put the coffee on.
It’s planting season, and with 6500 acres, the sense of urgency is clear and a wasted day is money lost.
I help him the best I can, loading up bags of corn seed in the pickup or finding the right numbers to lay aside for other farmers to pick up. Did I mention he’s the area’s seed dealer, as well?
By mid-afternoon, I am missing my friend and wonder if he’s hungry. This is my favorite part of the long field days, the farming “widow” life, and I prepare to head west for a ride, this time in the sprayer as he fertilizes the soil for more planting.
I make a simple ham and cheese sandwich, throw some chips in a baggie, and grab a couple of Cokes for the road.
We greet one another and ride for a while, not really talking and he eats his bag lunch, declaring it the best sandwich he’s ever had.
The passenger seat is small and the field bumpy, so we cut our visit short; me satisfied in knowing he’s full and he grateful for my concern.
The pup and I say our goodbyes a mile from the car, hoping to enjoy a walk on this hot May day.
I know it will be hours before I see him again, but there is always an end in sight during the busy seasons.
That doesn’t stop me from praying for a little bit of rain, however.