“What are you up to today?”
Oh, I see,
And what am I up to, you ask? Well, let me tell you.
Today, I’m going to use every ounce of positive thinking I’ve got to manifest the day I want. And since writing it down and sharing it with you surely makes it more likely to happen… here goes nothing.
Now, I don’t talk much about our crop farm, but it’s a big part of our life. In fact, truth be told, it still pays most of the bills around here (though we—you and us together—are doing our best to get the sheep to pull their weight!). But yeah, the crop farm.
There’s this one particular piece of land that’s... let’s say needy. It’s a beautiful little field nestled next to a lovely creek, which sounds picturesque until you learn the creek often sits higher than the field. The neighbors all have fancy hydro-powered pumps to keep their land dry after big rains. Not us. We’ve scraped by with various setups over the years—tractor-driven pumps, solar-powered pumps, and most recently, a diesel-powered monster we brought in for those heavy spring downpours.
And wouldn’t you know it, we’ve got a winter wheat crop growing in that field this year—and wheat does not like swimming.
So here’s what happened:
I checked on the new system early yesterday and was actually pretty proud of how everything was running. Later that night, I went back for one last look before dark. As I bounced down the muddy lane in our 4WD side-by-side, I noticed things looked worse than they had that morning.
Sure enough, when I reached the pump—the one that moves water from the collection pond over the dyke to the creek—I found my worst nightmare: a hole in the dyke. Most likely thanks to a muskrat. It started as a tiny leak, and now it was a gushing waterfall of creek water coming into the field.
The big 10" pump was no match.
With daylight fading and nothing I could do, I sighed, turned off the pumps, and let the field flood. Once the water level equals the creek, at least the leak would stop. Hopefully, under all that water, the dyke would still be there in the morning.
So here’s where the positive thinking comes in.
At 10 a.m. today, I’m meeting our good friend Adam Anderson (and his excavator) at the site. We’ll fire up the pumps, drain the pond, and reveal the exact location of the leak. Adam will swing that bucket, take one big scoop of mud, and drop it perfectly over the hole. The leak will stop instantly. We’ll high-five, admire our work, go home, and the wheat will thrive.
Yep. That’s definitely how today’s going to go.
Or… more realistically… it’ll turn into a whole new saga, and I’ll be back here next week with another muddy, muskrat-infused story to tell.
But hey—this is my official attempt at manifesting a win. Stay tuned.
Can Positive Thinking Fix a Dyke? Asking for a Farmer
