Hurry Up ... And Wait!

The combine is greased. The trucks are out of the shed. The wheat heads are turned down in their "I'm ready!" position. The cookies are baked and bagged in twos in the freezer, ready for grabbing for suppertime meal runs to the field. The farmer is definitely ready.

But since we don't have pontoons for the combine, I guess it will be a few days before it's harvest time here on the County Line.

Randy was eagerly anticipating firing up the combine on Monday. But that was before our rain gauge here collected 3.3 inches during the weekend. However, we feel fortunate. One farm to the northeast of us got 6.75 inches. One to the south of us got 6.75 inches.

I think it's Randy's fault. He made the comment last week that he couldn't remember the last time he was able to plant milo all the way through the mudholes in pretty much every field he planted.

The mudholes are back in the field and on the road. And the little milo stalks are probably drowning in the overabundance in those mudholes again.

Our dog Ralph enjoyed the extra water on the roads as we walked yesterday. We people, however, had to take the 4-wheel drive pickup to church on Sunday.

Vacation Bible School started yesterday morning at our church, and I'm the snack lady (more about that later.) I had been worried about juggling my snack duties with the noontime harvest meal. I don't think I'll have to worry about it until at least Thursday now. The television weatherman has raindrops on his seven-day forecast, so who knows when Harvest 2010 will begin?

I've always said I married the eternal optimist. Sure, he's a little antsy about pulling into the wheat fields and getting started with our major harvest of the year. But he always finds the silver lining. The rain was good for the pastures. It gave the milo a good drink of water. He always seems to find the "good" in situations, which is a wonderful trait in the man you marry.

All the rain was good for another crop, too. We have a bumper crop of frogs who are happily singing about the wet weather. The farmers are singing, too. But, for many of them, it sounds more like the blues.