Sunday, November 3, 2013

Day Three: 3

The third day is always the hardest.

That's a direct quote from my wise mother.
She is never short of advice, but this one has been used in about every stage of my life. From the basics like head colds (ever notice that the third day is the worst because you think you're better and you're really not?), to big life events like having a child (sorry, guys, but this is the day you're generally at home, thinking you can Swiffer the kitchen floor, do the laundry, tend to your other children, and you end up feeling worse than the actual birth), attending college (by the third class session, gloves were off, syllabus was out, and you're beginning to freak out), and starting to teach school (teaching sixth grade on the third day was FOR REAL, people).

Thus is the same with blogging for 30 days...I had an okay first day, my second one was well received, and now we're on Day 3.

So, what's going on?

Watching Three's Company?
How about The Three Stooges?
What about that cult classic, The Three Amigos?
I just came from about that Holy Trinity, huh? Now, that's an impressive 3!

So 3s are everywhere. It's Biblical. 3 is a good design number for a furniture grouping or a group of candles. 3 seemed like a great number of kids to have...until we had 4.

However, an easy "3" in our operation is the number of farmers. Our farm operation is mainly a 3-man gig. My dad, my uncle and Joe are the main worker bees during this busy time. We have a lot of behind the scenes workers:  my grandpa, our landlord, and our seasonal truck driver, Boyd, a cousin or two now and again, but mainly there's just the 3 guys making the big decisions on the operation.

At harvest, my dad does the grain cart, my uncle drives the combine, and Joe drives the semi.

Seems simple, right?

Yes, and no. That's the kicker with the number 3, and livestock.

You see, when you have livestock, it's tricky, and the difference in our operation than others is that my dad and uncle are not a part of the livestock business. Cattle are Joe's big thing (along with our landlord, of course).

But Dad and my uncle aren't a part of our livestock operation. My uncle has pigs, but he deals with them himself. Same as Joe. They are separate operations.

Sure, there's time that they help when Joe's working calves or needs a hand here and there, but this 3-some is only a true 3-some when it's harvest or spring planting.

That's different from a lot of other operations I have observed. And that's okay, it is just interesting how they can work separately for several months of the year and then be side-by-side (in huge pieces of equipment, mind you) for weeks and months at a time. The shed door shutting on the combine doesn't mean that they don't talk or plan or whatever, but for the most part, each of our farmers have very separate, very specific jobs that they do very much alone.

Isn't that interesting?

It helps with defining who does what, and there's never any argument about who is going to drive what and when, but it does make for a lonely time, I'm sure, while they each do their own thing in the "off months."

But for now, the 3 farmers in our operation press on. They work long hours, eat weird foods at odd times of the day, and survive this time knowing that when the combine is in the shed (whenever that is...don't ask), these three can go on their separate ways and meet up again in the spring, each with their own specific roles to play.

Linking up with Prairie Farmer's 30 Days blog challenge here.

And here's the rest of my blog quest:
Day One
Day Two

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