What’s the one thing that tells you another season is here? On the farm, the changing seasons don’t always follow the calendar. Much of my time is spent outside, greeting each morning with the same question to Mother Nature: What’s in store today? Some decisions, like planting and harvest, require a delicate balance of weighing the weather against the date to figure out the best course of action.
But this week, the decision I had to make wasn’t about crop production or livestock—it was about something far less critical, though it felt important to me. Health and safety? Emotional well-being? I’m not quite sure. What I do know is there’s no HR department around here to ask.
There I was, in the basement, getting ready for morning chores. I could hear the cold drizzle of rain against the small basement window, and that’s when it hit me: It’s time. Time to mark the start of another season. Time to move my jackknife from the pocket of my summer coveralls to the pocket of my insulated winter coveralls.
On they went, with a toque snug on my head, and out into the dark, cold morning I stepped. Despite the weather, I was cozy and ready to tackle another winter. As I trudged through the quiet morning, I couldn’t help but wonder: What if I kept track of this date for the rest of my life? How might it change over the years? Would I notice a pattern? And how long will I have the privilege of marking this moment—this quiet, simple ritual of welcoming winter?
Sometimes the thoughts that creep in during the solitude of farm work even amaze me. But they’re part of what makes this life so special—a rhythm of seasons that isn’t just marked by dates on a calendar, but by small, personal moments like this.
Farmer Rod