Monday, September 26, 2016

It just doesn't seem possible that so much water could fall from the sky, day after day after day. But it does.

One of the great advantages of growing up on a large farm is the thrill of being surrounded by all of God's creatures.

As the roaring combine sawed through 30 feet of soybeans at a fast-walk pace last October, a farming friend, through the convenience of his cell phone, sold 160 acres of still-standing corn for a couple or three nickels over $3 per bushel upon harvest.

Apparently, my children are attending spy school. That is the only explanation for why I, the consummate prying parent, am so completely in the dark about what it is they DO all day.

We'll go on the assumption that by press time, our weather will change dramatically. In other words, it will stop raining, the grass will stop greening up, and the temperature will drop below 30 F and stay there.

I couldn't help but laugh one day last week when a high school girl told me she was praying for a snow day just in time for semester exams.

A college friend once noted that everyone is missing one word from their personal vocabulary. "My missing word is modesty," he pronounced.

As the work-at-home mom-type person, I have become quite the hostess. Granted, not for cocktail parties, holiday dinners, or any gathering involving guests over the age of 10.

I can't open the mail, or another farm publication, or my e-mail without reading the word "ethanol." We're riding the e-wave right now, bobbing along on high corn prices and floating on renewable energy currents from Washington.

I was up all night New Year's Eve. I've heard you can never really catch up on sleep. A few mornings into the year, I sprang up in bed and blinked in disbelief at the digital clock on the television across the room.
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