Well, just like that, it’s time to turn off the heat lamps, switch on the fans, and head to the field.
We wrapped up another lambing session in the barn, and the timing couldn’t have been better—this weather is perfect for diving into the crop side of the farm.
Now, late April is usually a little early for planting around here. The fields are often too wet, and it’s a waiting game. But this year, things are different. We’ve got a rare dry window, and let me tell you, it’s like someone fired the starting pistol on a 100-meter dash. Every farmer I know is scrambling to get seed in the ground, because tomorrow? Tomorrow could bring rain, mud, and delays for weeks.
I’ve been trying—really trying—to hold back the rising panic that tells me I need to have everything done in the next 72 hours. It’s so easy to slip into that kind of thinking, like somehow I’m going to compress three weeks of work into one long weekend with nothing but a tractor, sheer willpower, and a snack or two. But let’s be honest—that’s not how this works. And I know better! Still, every spring, I get this idea that I can outrun the weather, beat the calendar, and bend time itself. If overthinking were a crop, I’d have a bumper yield every year.
I mentioned this to Anne the other night—how I saw all the neighbours going hard and laid out my own lofty goals for the next few days. She just looked at me and said, “It’ll get done. It always does.” And you know what? She’s right. The panic doesn’t get the job done any faster.
So, for now, I’m keeping my head down and just doing the next thing. There’s no award for fastest planter in the county, and besides, I’ve got enough trophies in overthinking already. A few seeds at a time, a few acres a day—that’s the pace. It might not be flashy, but it’s farming. So just like the tortoise said, “slow and steady wins the race.”
Farmer Rod
From Lambs to Land: The Sprint into Spring
