Well, it's time. It's not technically the 20th of April, but the guys are ready. The planter is hooked up, filled up, fertilizer tank is ready, and they're all buzzing around the driveway like a bunch of bees.
However, as I backed out of the drive to meet a friend for a run this morning, I found myself wondering what it would be like if I could just back out and pull out of the drive without having to navigate around a 24 row planter that was unfurled and ready to roll in the middle of the driveway.
Literally, the middle.
Now, I am terrible at backing out, which, as a farmer's wife especially, is not a good thing. I have to back out of all sorts of weird spots, but in the early morning light, a planter, the one that "needs to get going" (according to my grandpa yesterday in the same driveway...thus the earlier start time, perhaps?) shouldn't be run over by a mom, still bleary eyed and her SUV.
There's always something in my driveway: a semi, a chore truck, the chore tractor, a mower, a sprayer, the gas man, the pest guy, the sprayer...something. But, there are usually always little people in my driveway too, on scooters, bikes with and without training wheels, pushing dolly strollers, or pushing Jack in a stroller. While I have a hard and fast rule that my kids are to NOT be anywhere but our concrete pad when something is running in the driveway, it only takes a second for something to go awry.
However, one has to be able to retrieve the bouncy ball that rolled under the tire of the tractor, right? Kids have to be able to ride and run and play and chuck balls here and there, right? But, this is the home base for the farm. This is the place where all service calls are made by more trucks, where the guys come in to refuel, where the semis are parked.
So, what's a mother of toddlers and kids to do?
There's a lovely homestead we oooh and ahhh over as we drive to my in-laws. It is the same type of set up....gravel drive to the lovely landscaped machine shed, and the house directly in front of it. However, we noticed that there is now not only a lovely white rock driveway for the big equipment, but not also an even lovelier blacktop drive leading to the even lovelier landscaped and cute as a button house.
That lady, I assume, had had enough of fighting with the farmers in her driveway and stomped her foot and poured some asphalt.
Maybe I need to stomp my foot a little louder...
Nah, I'll continue to wage the parking war, and be the envy of all little boys of our friends as I get to look at the big tractors all day, every day.