I Didn't See That One Coming.

Dear Blog Reader.

I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. We have finally had two cold mornings back to back and the insect world has taken it on the chin. The one cold morning in October damaged the little buggers but the subsequent mild temperatures let them up off of the mat. These were evolved insects. Their stupider brethren had died off long ago. They knew that the respite from the cold was temporary. They along with the mice were headed indoors. How did they know that indoors was the only place to come in from the outside? I do not know. But there they were loitering around the front and back door waiting for that opening, letting them buzz into that constant 70 degree weather. Or so they thought.

Actually, they were actively seeking their own demise. Once inside, they had to dodge the fly swatter. Yes, we are old school in the Sharritt household; no toxic chemicals for us. The lovely Miss Beverly and I arm ourselves, with the trusty swatter, against the winged invaders.  As with all great athletic feats, the secret is in the wrist. You have to keep it limber. Poise the swatter above the fly, cock the wrist, take a deep breath, let it out slowly and pull the trigger firmly and decisively. The goal is to stop the swing just as you reach the surface. Any more is over kill, and is going to leave a greasy mess on the table. No, kill the fly and wipe it to the ground.

This extended run of glorious weather has made the perfect setting for the harvest and bike riding. I have a favorite road. It is narrow and winding and some up and down. During the fall, the overhanging foliage is a cave of red, gold and stubborn greens holding on to their photosynthetic lifeline. I find it soothing to ride through this cave. It is interesting that while I get comfort from riding down this road, I have a cousin close in age and, during our formative years, close in geography. He found this road absolutely horrifying. He always thought that snakes wandered the branches above and at any second one would drop out of a tree onto the tractor that he was driving an kill him. To each their own.

I have to admit to a guilty pleasure of fall riding. That is squishing wooly worms. I know that I said I wanted to stop squishing them a couple of years ago in the pages of this very blog. That year while riding in the Hilly Hundred, I must have squished 50 of them in Southern Indiana. The superstitious part of me started to believe that the cold weather later that winter was nature’s retribution. So I glibly promised to stop the wanton killing. But this fall once again, they were crawling across the road. They were trying to get to greener pastures after their current field had been harvested. While their legs are many, they are also very short. If they just had two longer legs, they would be able to see that the field on the other side of the road was just as bear. With that foreknowledge, they would not have been out in the road while I rode by. However, that is not the way of the world. They do have short legs. The did not have foreknowledge of harvested fields across the road. They did slink out to the middle of the road, and . . . Squish, squish, squish, let it snow, snow, snow.

We are down to the last few fields to harvest. In our area, they are mostly part time farmers who can’t afford to keep the mechanical miracle of a combine running with any reliability. In this new age of agriculture, you would be hard pressed to find a combine more than three years old on any farm. I just got on the internet and found that I could buy a used 2014 John Deere for $330,000. They do throw in a hat with it for no extra charge. So this machine has been through the 2014 and 2015 harvest. There is a farmer out there who crunched the numbers and determined that it was cheaper to buy a new one rather than take the time and expense to replace the hundreds of bearings chains and belts all with no guarantee that sometime in 2016 a bearing will go out leaving him stranded in the middle of the field. Yes, in today’s agriculture, time is money.

The small farmer cannot afford that kind of capital outlay to afford even a slightly used combine. It would take them about a million years to pay off a $330,000 combine harvesting 200 acres of corn. So often they wait and then approach one of the big farmers who isn’t tired of riding around in his combine yet, and they custom combine the small farmer’s crops for a few dollars an acre. A good deal for everyone involved.

Please don’t think that the big farmers have it made, riding around in their $400,000 rigs. First, they have to push those rigs around a lot of acres to make the payment on that much green. Which brings me to a question that I have been pondering for a few years. How in the world do big farmers remember where their farms are? There are over a thousand farmers in Indiana farming acreage of more than 2000 acres. These farms are not in one big field. No they are spread out hither and yon; across several counties in many cases. I would just lose track. I know that they use GPS and have maps. But I know that I would lose track around acre 1756 and just quit for the year. What’s 46 acres between friends?

This loop hole makes me wonder if there isn’t an opportunity for the aspiring farmer wanna be. We need to come up with a date in November when once it expires all fields become public domain. Sure it can change, just like the deer hunting season can change. If there are a lot of deer in a year, the DNR extends the season some. An extended season means more deer taken from the woods. I am sorry for the digression but a week ago during my early morning bike ride, I came around the corner near my house only to find an 8 point buck standing in the middle of the road loitering under a street lamp. Obviously, the assassin deer are feeling frisky this year. I aggressively pedaled toward him and he scampered off like the coward we all know him to be.

See I told you they were out there.

The dates would work in reverse. Some years the harvest proceeds more smoothly than other years. The weather is the determining factor usually. Dry years the harvest is done earlier. You could make the free for all as early as election day. Other, wetter years the harvest is delayed and so should the harvest free day. Let’s push it back to Thanksgiving. Then release the hounds. That way you would not have those unsightly fields of forlorn corn all broken off; a sanctuary for hundreds of assassin deer. Nor would there be rank upon rank of stubby soybeans standing defiantly against the rising snow. Although you don’t have to worry assassin deer being sustained in the bean field. They would never be caught dead eating tofu.

Once we get the day of “free for all” established then the real fun can begin. The biggest current challenge that I see is farmers know which fields they have to harvest because they logged the planting of those acres with a GPS and computer combo way back in the spring. A system so precise that once they have driven over the ground, a farmer can replant or harvest it by pushing a button, taking their hands off of the steering wheel and relaxing and reading the paper or taking a nap. Self-driving vehicles have been here for a few years. Google is way behind John Deere. Although to be fair, the challenges for Google are much more daunting. If you were to set a car or a baby stroller in the middle of the field, the combine would run right over it. Its technology is simply following a line on a map and there is no detection of boundaries or obstacles. If the field got 100 feet shorter because you built a house in the corner during the summer, the combine would be harvesting in your living room that fall.

Yes, the GPS - computer combination is simple, and elegant, but stupid. Utilizing that stupidity is where my ingenious plan comes to fruition. We simple give the North Koreans a few hundred bucks and have them hack the John Deere computer system. You could easily wipe out 10% of the memory of farm fields from the farmer’s database. The “Free for All” date would be established. The calendar would turn, and viola, we can all be thieving rotten scoundrels.

Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. What I thought was a great plan for taking a little bit of corn, still standing in the field, away from the assassin deer suddenly turned dark at the end; thieving rotten scoundrels. I did not see that one coming.

Isn’t that the way with the world? Not having the height or proper perspective leaves us blind to the other side of the road, so we go crawling inch by inch toward that greener place only to find it just as desolate, if we are lucky or squished if that idiot on his bike rides by.

Take care

Roger

Self Control of Halloween

Dear Blog Reader.           

I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. We are turning to the end of October. The remnants of hurricane Patty will soaked us last Tuesday and Wednesday. Thankfully the shingles were secure on the roof and we were okay. I must admit that the rain was appreciated here in Sharritt Land. I have spent much of the last three months toting a hose around the garden in an effort to keep the greens growing. I am glad to report that the arugula, mizuna, chard, and lettuce all look great; the spinach not so much. I believe that I was using some old seed and spinach seed does not age well.

While this contrary farmer is planting clover and rye cover crop to take advantage of some warm weather and some rain in spite of the shortening day length, the rest of American Agriculture is busy wiping the slate clean. They are nearly done now. The big famers have not only pushed their combines across the acres like giant erasers; they have also taken advantage of the dry weather to erase all of the corn stalks and bean stubble from the scene. It is an amazing transformation. I am not here to comment on the wisdom of exposing your soil to the wind, snow and rain for the next six months. Some say that the winter landscape can benefit from some patches of green cover crop. It does my heart good to think that the oxygen generation will continue for those rare sunny November days and get a bit of a head start next March, and I like seeing a patch of winter rye and alsike clover getting established and knowing that there will be green emerging when the snow melts.

Who knows? With El Nino brewing away out in the Pacific we may have some photosynthesis in February. I hope not. I vividly remember three years ago (that’s my motto “Keeping forgetfulness at bay since 1962”) when we had the very warm winter and many of you removed the flannel sheets in March. Suddenly, the apple trees, sensing the portent of warmer weather, started to bloom only to be nipped in the bud by a three day freeze in early April. Thankfully, all will be revealed in the fullness of time.

I love October. I love the way that it makes you wait until the very last day to enjoy its major celebration; no early days off for good behavior like September’s Labor Day, no unseemly impulse control issues like January, celebrating on the first day and just a week after the last big celebration. Sure, December, May, and November make you wait for most of the month. But October is an unyielding task master making you wait until the very end.

It is trying to teach us valuable lessons. Natural consequences, that best teacher of all, shows us that good things come to those who wait. How many first week of October Jack-o-lanterns have melted by mid-month on the porch, their orange gapped tooth grins turning to black grimaces of horror? “I’m melting.” How many bite sized Snickers bars have been gobbled down long before the goblins and ghosts arrive to be disappointed by smarties and candy corn on the 31^st. It is sobering to realize that your lack of impulse control will cause so much sorrow as you wake up from your coma sitting on the couch, surrounding by snicker’s wrappers, a thin line of brown drool tracing down your chin. Better luck next year sparky.

But October must become very frustrated as a teacher. While it is unyielding in desire to make us wait and to develop patience to become more temperate in our lives, we often rebel. Thousands of pumpkins are sold the last week before Halloween as replacements for their sad saggy brethren being hauled off to the compost heap. I have been eating Halloween candy at work since mid-September. I have learned to wipe my chin thoroughly after waking up on the couch. Very few adults are showing any kind of impulse control while choosing costumes. Parts that have blossomed with age and calories and have been tastefully disguised in vertical stripes and layers are suddenly being displayed loud and proud. It is all very frightening.

And tonight we shall release the hounds in the annual blood lust of trick or treat. Millions of pounds of candy will be redistributed this evening. Garbage bags and pillow cases will be filled. We used to like to send the kids out early, have them bring back their candy and augment our reserves. We all know it is too much. How can 15 lbs of Snickers bars be good to you? As I typed that last sentence, my pancreas started crying in the corner. When I was younger, it would have broken into a Scottish brogue screaming, “I can’t do it Captain. No way to create that much insulin. It can’t be done.” My brain would have screamed back, “Dammit Scotty. You have to. These are Snickers bars and I am going to eat them all tonight. No way is my sister going to get her hands on them.”

We know it is obscene. We know it is too much. We dread the thought of the little sugared up monsters coming home and having to be wrestled into bed. It isn’t their fault. We created them.

As with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Thank God Newton was so smart. I have come across a new phenomenon to combat the largess of the season; actually, 2 phenomena. I developed one and the other I choose to argue against.

I love the candy tax. I rationalize it that it taught our children valuable life lessons. Nothing in life is free; now you know the pain that I feel with my pay check; it is the way of the world, you are going to have to get used to it. The plan is simple; go trick or treating, pour all of your candy out on the kitchen table, divide it into groups of ten, I get to choose one piece from each group. Yes, I get to choose. No pile of smarties for me. I get all Snickers. And there you have the candy tax. Sure, the kids scream it’s not fair. I agree. They are paying a 10% tax. The people who bought the candy paid as much as 25% on the money they earned to buy the candy, 6% on the sales tax, 3 to 5% on the property tax so that they would have a door for you to knock on and scream “Trick or Treat”, and 12% for the social security tax so that they will be able to continue to finance your candy stealing in their old age. You’re absolutely correct 10% candy tax isn’t fair. It isn’t but it is the way of life. Get used to it.

As usual my suggestions for life’s little conundrums are a bit harsh. There are people who believe that children should spared the cruel realities of adulthood. You can understand. It is a compelling argument. Taxes are a scary concept for a 3 year old dressed up a Freddy Krueger. Yet caring, sensitive, parents know that their children should be separated from as much candy as possible for the sake of their poor little pancrei. Necessity is the mother of invention. I have a co-worker who, faced with this situation, went searching for a solution. As with all of modernity’s solutions, it was to be found on the internet. It is a book. This book sensitizes guileless children that the witches are in desperate need of candy but that they will exchange a toy with the child for their candy on Halloween night.

As Goebbels once said “when one lies, one should lie big, and stick to it. They keep up their lies, even at the risk of looking ridiculous.” To that end the authors have created an “elf on the shelf” type doll that the parents can use to repeat the lie for 30 days. Thirty days of operant training will probably have your kids drooling just like Pavlov’s pooches as they hand over their hard won loot for a rubber ball and some jacks. It shouldn’t take more than a session or two on the couch to get your children over the lies you told them growing up. Maybe you can get a two for one discount for Elf on a Shelf and Witch on a Shelf.

There you have it. All of you Frostians at your fork in the road. Which path to choose in your parenting wood? Should I lie or bully them into behavior that they should choose? That is often the problem with quick and easy parenting advice. It relies on coercion rather than recognizing that parenting is a long road of constant urging, encouragement and correction. And just like October, you are going to be pretty frustrated with the results.

Take care

Roger.