The waiting game

Published 9:38 am Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Well, they’re out there. I figure about 6.38 million peanut, 12.4 million corn and 13.5 million cotton seed.

And that’s just our farm. All just sitting there, a little below the surface, spaced apart, nestled in the dirt, each to his own.

And we wait. For now it’s up to them. From now ‘til next fall, they’ll be doing most of the work. They don’t sleep, don’t go out to eat, don’t take vacations. They don’t take coffee breaks, watch television, read books or visit friends.

Somehow, those little rascals never stop until they accomplish their goal. Not even for one minute. They’re all out there, right this minute, like some giant army dressed in their particular uniform, waiting for marching orders.

And us? We’re scratching, poking, digging up and checking out to see what happens. We’re scanning the fields like a mother watching her newborn baby, walking back and forth like a Dad in the maternity ward.

We don’t have a clue exactly how it happens, but we know something is going to happen. Why, we’re betting the farm on it. There is just something about a seed and dirt and moisture and sunshine that causes little explosions that burst out of the ground like mini volcanoes and makes a field turn into a work of art.

At least that’s what happened last year. It’s what we’ve been planning on and working on and dreaming about and talking about.

And it all starts right now. They’re all out there. Alone. Unseen. Quiet. Hidden.

Have they got what they need? Are they cold? Are they hungry? Thirsty? Do they need our help? Is there anything we can do to make their life more comfortable?

We don’t know. Not really. All we can do is sit in our houses and ride by in our pickup trucks glancing wistfully out the window. Hoping. Wondering. Fretting.

And we wait.