If tomorrow is Spring, why is today Summer?

The calendar says that tomorrow is the official start of Spring but thanks to some unseasonably warm weather (it was officially 81 degrees here yesterday -- in the supposed frozen wasteland of Minnesota) it's been spring here for a couple weeks. While I am personally grateful for our nearly absent winter after last winter's 90"+ of snowfall and subsequent spring flooding, I am also thankful that it finally rained. Like I said, while the lack of snowfall was awesome after back-to-back brutal winters, the lack of moisture -- basically since late last August -- was a bit disconcerting. My dad is a farmer and while I haven't seen him truly worry about weather conditions since about 1993 he was openly worried about the lack of moisture.

"I've never actually seen my drainage ditch totally dry." Yeah, that was the topic of conversation as our extended family celebrated Thanksgiving at my parent's farm last year. Of course I got to see the barren drainage ditch firsthand as he insisted that we drive down through the field and look at his rather impressive bridge he had built across the now pointlessly wide open drainage ditch. "Yeah, 15 truckloads of cement and a few hundred feet of re-bar is all it took."

We peered down into the vast chasm. "The neighbor," as he pointed to the east, "came over to help me reinforce the forms. They didn't even begin to blow out."

"Yeah, but how long has it been since there was water deep enough here to make something like this stone monolith necessary? I've seen lesser bridges on state highways."

I asked and joked, totally knowing the answer already.

"With all that snow melting so fast last Spring it almost washed the whole thing out again. And it is better than the bridge over on 34 that washed out a couple years ago."

I know how it is. I grew up there. I worked on the farm. I helped pick up rocks. I helped clear 70 year-old trees which were falling into the ditch bank. I watched as my parents patched in drainage tile after losing crops to ponding water. I like to joke about things because that's where my dad and I are different. My friends joke that I am a carbon copy of my dad but I am all about coming up with the next joke. My wife knows it, my mom knows it and while my dad doesn't always laugh, he gets it too.

And maybe after our first Spring storm of the winter months (huh?) there might be some water in my dad's precious temple to modern farm drainage to necessitate his shining example of modern concrete construction but I'm guessing that it's still a bit overbuilt for a half inch of rain.

TV actually educated my household last night

About two thirds of the way through the broadcast of "Food, Inc." on PBS' POV last night I became angry. That's because the documentary came to a pivotal area which I understand deeply. It centered around Monsanto and how they not only control the chemicals farmers use but also now control approximately 90% of the seeds farmers use to grow the very crops we eat.
The story, as it goes, tells viewers that it all began just over a decade ago when Monsanto introduced RoundUp-ready Soybean seed. In short, the very chemical that homeowners use to kill grass and weeds growing through the cracks in their sidewalks could now be used by soybean growers to kill every weed in their fields while leaving the soybeans untouched. I remember when these first came in to being. My dad, miser that he is, refused to buy the RoundUp-ready soybeans because they were approximately three times the cost of traditional seed. And he had it even better as he planted public varieties which, based on which variety yielded best, he would save enough seed for the next year's crop to have cleaned and bagged. It's entirely legal and the vendor where he purchased the seed actually did cleaning and bagging for farmers as well.

But then it began changing. The public varieties began to dwindle in availability and the cost of RoundUp came down as did the RoundUp-ready soybean seed prices. Then Monsanto bred the RoundUp-ready gene in to corn and soon the majority of corn varieties from virtually all seed companies were ready for farmers to soak their farm fields with RoundUp. This near-monopoly made Monsanto even richer - and greedier.

Now, with that dominance of the RoundUp-ready gene in most of the country's soybean crop, farmers are virtually unable to save seed for the next year's needs. Monsanto has reached almost a Gestapo-level of control in their ability to demand farmer's records and test the seeds they are saving. Even a trace of that gene in the seeds you are saving will likely land that farmer on the receiving end of a hefty lawsuit. And it hurts only true farmers. The type of farmers who don't farm thousands of acres. The type of farmers who don't have the shiniest or newest machinery. The type of farmers who aren't pawns owned by huge banks or other lenders. These are the farmers who truly care about the land they farm but with the almost overnight dominance of one company - Monsanto - they are even more of an endangered species.

Seeing "Food, Inc." made me sad that for lack of choices and in his search for a profit on increasingly slim margins that my dad has had to turn to a dependence on everything Monsanto. What happens when Monsanto makes a mistake in their gene splicing? What happens when some disturbing side effect of consuming food made from RoundUp-ready corn or soybeans is disvcovered? What happens when the weeds become resistant (as they tend to do after 5-10 years of exposure) to repeated RoundUp applications? The eventual lesson is to not fuck with Mother Nature. She doesn't even bother counting to three, she just puts the smack down and we're at her mercy.

But before the possible foodpocalypse, check out the photos fo Minnesota at MinnPics! It's the one decision today that you won't regret.

Why cooperatives and networks work

As I read this transcript about the evolution of news gathering and how the future involves cooperation, I was reminded of a conversation I had with my dad on Thanksgiving day. As we sat eating some late afternoon dessert, he casually mentioned how farms around theirs were quickly swapping hands. Be it auctions with others purchasing the land or simply a change in renters of the farms it got my mind running. I quickly did the math (as my dad has done numerous times) and realized the potential yearly income they were sitting on. Then, as we talked more, I realized what is happening around them.

It all clicked for me today after I read that link above. My dad had explained that the ever-escalating rent prices - as high as $310/acre - were possibly because a group of farmers spanning a distance of well over 20 miles had teamed up. The moderately-sized operators partnered with a grain elevator, a chemical/fertilizer supplier, an equipment dealer and a seed company and, with the backing of what I assume are wholesale prices for their supplies and a bank eager to toss out truckloads of cash, had quickly amassed over 20,000 acres of land with a goal of acquiring 30,000 acres.

To put this in perspective, the average size of a "family" farm in my parent's area ranges from 1,000-2,000 acres. Some is owned, some is rented. They typically own their machinery and operate on somewhat slim margins. My parents were paying $120/acre rent which, after 23 years of renting one farm, had finally put them in the black financially.

That kind of business (at that size it's far, far beyond the scope of a farm) would be impossible to run with just one family and a few employees. Even if the partnership were just the farmer pooling their collective resources it would still be impossible. Without an epic amount of planning it's a logistical nightmare full of potential problems. But when you factor in the logistical resources and technological knowhow of those ag-related businesses it becomes manageable. Every aspect of the operation, when the businesses are factored in, is instantly manageable because those businesses already have people on staff or know of people who have the skills necessary to keep the wheels of such a mammoth operation moving with nary a hiccup.

While a mega-farm like the one we discussed over pumpkin pie is most certainly the end for small farmers like my parents, it actually makes sense when looked at from a business perspective. It's typical of what's happening in every facet of business. Lean times mean slim margins. But those slim margins are margins of scale and if you can multiply them enough times - barring any sort of natural disaster - you have some rather impressive profits. That's exactly what these farmers - farmers who have fought the same yearly battles my parents have - have realized. With wise decisions and smart partnerships - those who don't take huge chunks of the profits - every business can survive.

But don't expect my parents to take up an offer for that sky-high rent when they retire. They would b surrounded by furious neighbors who would likely run them out of town. Sure, business is business but those friendships with those neighbors run generations deep. Eventually someone's feelings will get hurt but in any case it's just business.

If you want something less mundane, check out the photos at MinnPics. They are there to captivate you.

Cougars in the suburbs?

By now we all know that the suburban cougar is alive and well. The suburban cougar is pursued by young males everywhere. If I weren't married, I'd probably be pursuing a cougar for myself because she'd probably have a few tricks up her sleeve. But today I'm not talking about that suburban cougar that hangs out at bars and wears seductive clothing. Today I'm talking about real cougars in the giant feline form.

A local thoroughbred who was supposed to be a spokeshorse of sorts for other retired ponies was attacked by what many think to be a cougar on a farm in Prior Lake near a Shakopee elementary school. I've always had my doubts about the tales I've heard since moving here about cougars and coyotes roaming the valleys along the Minnesota River. My wife is particularly adamant about the existence of coyotes. She recounts memories of hearing them on the farm she grew up on just above the Minnesota River. Her brothers had seen coyotes in the woods near the farm and her dad had shot at them to scare them away on numerous occasions.

Again, I had my doubts. I never believe something until I've seen it with my own eyes. Then one night while driving in the Belle Plaine area along Highway 169 I actually saw a small dog-like animal standing on the shoulder of the road. I knew it wasn't a fox - I have seen plenty of those while growing up in far southern Minnesota. My wife immediately told me that it was a coyote.

And that is exactly what the Minnesota DNR thinks attacked My Friend Deke, the horse that was stabling in Prior Lake. If I lived in that immediate area or had kids who attended that particular elementary school, I'd be alreat but not concerned. After all, we are the ones who encroached on the area which these wild animals call home. Six years ago when I moved here, that particular area was still corn fields and woods. Now it is leveled and full of half-million dollar homes and strip malls. When humans and animals try to co-exist, it's usually the animals who end up losing the battle in the end but a cougar or a coyote attacking a farm animal should serve as a wake-up call that we are all pissing nature off.

If you like nature and want to embrace it, check out MinnPics which often times showcases fabulous photos of Minnesota's natural beauty.

An important announcement

From here on, Fridays will be known as Pants-Free Fridays. Yep, it's pretty much self-explanatory and if you need an explanation you'll probably never enjoy Pants-Free Friday. This was inspired by seeing this link mentioned in a tweet this morning about a clothing optional farm in Wisconsin. Be careful when bailing hay, it's scratchy enough on the arms, imagine it on the... crotchal region. Ouch.

One more thing: the long weekend is officially a Socks-Free Weekend. Yep, my socks come off the minute I leave work Thursday and I vow to not put socks back on my feet until Monday morning. What are some of your long weekend plans?

Mine involve both of the above mentioned items as well as snapping a few photos for MinnPics.

My parent's neighborhood is cursed

If you catch even a glimpse of anything remotely related to national news, you'll see that in recent days the midwest has been pummelled with a variety of storms. Most have been in the form of flooding rains and tornadoes. Minnesota hasn't been missed by any of these storms.

Hardest hit, once again, has been southern and southeastern Minnesota and that hits home to me because the city where I grew up (near) is once again being hit hard by flood waters. Especially close to home is this story which happened exactly a mile from the farm where I grew up. To sum things up, a large drainage ditch apparently overflowed its banks, washed out the paved county road and claimed the life of a man who was unfortunate enough to attempt crossing the washout and being swept under the rushing water.

Six inches of rain falling fast on top of already saturated ground from Saturday's flooding rains tends to have what experts refer to as a "negative effect". I prefer to call it a curse, though.

I can't even begin to count how many times flooding (of lesser extent) has hit the farm where I spent many years playing with a stick as my only toy. We were a poor family and that stick, as well as my imagination, was all I had. Well, those two things and the fact that I could, on occasion, help my dad set up barricades in the neighborhood when floods happened. It was exciting to ride along to the township garage and help him load the piles of barricades into the back of that rusty 1977 red Ford F-150. It was also fearful because there was the outside chance that rust had eaten away the last remnants of bolts anchoring the box to the frame but it's still together.

Anyhow, I can imagine today that my dad is tooling around setting up barricades and watching a few acres of his corn and soybean crop drift its way toward Iowa and eventually into the nearby Cedar River. At least we won't run the risk of setting anything on fire with our annual fireworks extravaganza.

UPDATE:
The Minneapolis Star Tribune has a great video from Austin and with the aerial shots interspersed I can clearly see an apartment building where I once lived that is very much surrounded by water and many businesses I used to frequent which yesterday were fighting back the rising flood waters. Today begins the cleanup.

Energy, ethanol and the depressing truth (opinion?)

I don't actually enjoy being a total killjoy but sometimes the truth is a bit depressing. That is true with something that happened late last week. And if you haven't figured out my vague references, I am talking about the ever escalating gas prices.

It's not just gas, though. The escalating fuel prices have a bit of a ripple effect. Fuel prices effect the price of everything we consume. All that shit from China (a.k.a. everything sold in your local Wal-Mart or Target) doesn't just magically appear here with the wave of a magic wand. The food sold in those stores and others has a similar but shorter journey. Most everything takes a portion of its journey down our nation's highways via a semi-truck. Those men (and some women) are feeling the crunch. Their paychecks directly reflect the skyrocketing fuel prices. A friend of mine described to me last weekend that the company he drives semi for as an over-the-road trucker slowed their speeds 10 miles per hour to save fuel. They realize that this will only raise prices as it will take longer to deliver products but they have their bottom line to watch out for as well.

Then there are the farmers. Believe it or not, the farm economy feels this too because despite the record high prices their grains are fetching on the markets, they are facing even higher input costs in the form of fuel, seed, chemicals and fertilizer. While my parents are selling their crops from 2007 for record high prices and have contracted a large portion of the speculative 2008 crop for those same prices, they are feeling the pinch with fertilizer costs (particularly the cost of nitrogen whcih makes corn grow) that have practically tripled since 2000 if they can even acquire the very nitrogen (anhydrous amonia) they paid for due to supposedly short supplies. Couple that with diesel fuel prices that have quadrupled since 2000 and seed prices which have nearly tripled int hat same time and they are no further ahead now than in 2000.

Of course plenty of people will want to say something about ethanol when the subject of farmers comes up. The truth is that while ethanol does divert corn from the food supply, the overall supply of corn in our country has increased due to increased yields and will continue to increase but eventually will be severely outpaced by the demands (for food and ethanol) if current trends continue.

That means that ethanol as we currently know it is far from the solution. The current high corn prices are seen as one obstacle.

The supply of corn in relation to our gasoline consumption is another hitch.

Amazingly, the best ethanol solution may be prairie grass (or switchgrass as Geroge Bush stated a few years back). Of course our future doesn't have to be bleak as oil prices begin to put a very noticeable crunch on the middle class. If money from, I don't know -- war spending, was diverted to financing research and development of viable fuel sources in the private or public sector and not by petroleum companies who only profit more with higher oil prices, our country could again become a superpower, this time by supplying a technological solution to fuel prices.

Of course, with the alternatives come more ideas to simply reduce our own energy consumption. Plasma and LCD televisions use far less energy than traditional CRT (tube) televisions and computer monitors. Compact fluorescent lightbulbs (when recycled properly) pay for themselves and then some in reduced energy consumption. Recycling your glass and plastic makes sense. But I am sure there are plenty of other ideas. What are some ways you are conserving energy? Or do you not believe we need to do anything?

The end of America (the short version)

I blame MTV.

I blame American Idol.

I blame "reality" TV.

I blame the general population.

I blame myself, too.

Yes, it's a big blame game but I have legit questions too.

Are Americans so downtrodden and worn down by their own lives that the only recourse is escapism? Is the only way to accept their own lives to live vicariously through the lowest of the lows that fill the broadcast schedules on the TV channels we watch?

Are we so overly exposed to our sad and pathetic reality that our only escape is what has become (for some at least) an unhealthy obsession with pop culture including celebrities and the "reality" television that comes along with them? After all, if there wasn't a market for the products, would the papparazzi violently stalk celebrities?

I could go down one path here and state that America needs to pay attention to the real reality that surrounds us (wars, our economy, the election, etc.) but too much of one thing is not a good thing at all.

The other path is to find a balance. It sounds preachy to say it and I know I'm far from perfect but I can honestly say I don't watch shit like TMZ or American Idol. I rarely, if ever, watch E!. VH1 and MTV's slathering of bottom feeding programming doesn't get tube time in our house. I don't watch the 24-hour news channels. And at 10 PM I split my time between The Daily Show and the 10 o'clock news on WCCO. Maybe that balance comes from my parents or maybe it's from my own choosing.

Even though I am somewhat young, I tend to think I am from a very different segment of my own generation. I was one of the few growing up who had the luxury of eating supper at the family table. We sat down and ate as a family. Yes, we even managed to do this (in a different venue) during the busy seasons on the farm. It brought out a sense of togetherness. We often had the evening news on in the adjoining living room because living in the country there wasn't the constant barrage of choices on the TV. We talked during the meal and discussed the day. How many truly have that luxury in 2008? How many families make it a point to eat together if the schedules of the working parents provide for it?

The great divide

In working on a double top secret project at the big-time media conglomerate super office, I was curious who's getting mentioned where and how often and stumbled upon a PBS blog entry mentioning MNSpeak and how despite its all-encompassing name, its zip code-based map tells a different story.

It's a boring topic to a lot of folks but the PBS link mentioned earlier discusses whether or not citizen journalism (blogs & other forms) are still mainly metropolitan based. I tend to think so. But maybe I'm wrong. Using the tag "mnvoices" on del.icio.us tells a different story.

So with an informal poll, I am curious where my readers come from. I know that most of the folks who comment here also blog in some way, shape or form but how close to a major metropolitan area do you live or work? The geeks at Google tell me that most of my traffic here is from Minnesota and more specifically the Twin Cities. Maybe they come for the in-depth conversations about pubic hair or swimming bunnies that may or may not lead me straight to hell but I tend to think it's for my stellar music feature on Fridays.

But the great divide isn't so great. I still have my phone and thanks to the folks at Samsung who created such an affordable (free) cell phone, I was able to determine that the farm economy is about to take a huge downward turn thanks to the global marketplace, petro-chemical prices (fertilizer, chemicals and fuel) and the fact that the farm economy directly reflects the general U.S. economy only delayed by a handful of months and amplified in extremity means that a general economy upswing is about a year away.

Confused yet? See, I've covered citizen journalism, name-checked PBS, Google & MNSpeak, done some self-promotion, covered the timely topic of the economy and asked questions. I await your feedback...

They said there would be rain

It was supposed to rain yesterday. To me, that first rain of the year marks the official arrival of spring. Oh, sure, the calendar says that spring is about a week away but our black farm fields and mostly barren lawns beg to differ.

Now normally, I am not one to get excited about rain. It's not nearly as fun as snow. No kids run outside in the raid and make mud angels or build gigantic mud men but here in Minnesota, the snow is a refreshing change of pace.

It seems that this year we were burdened with nothing more than two solid months of cold weather which deprived us of any additional snow. In fact, the weather nerds say that the greater Twin Cities area received about half of the normal amount of snow. That doesn't mean alot for cityslickers but it could spell ruin for farmers if they face a dry spring.

The rain, though, would have been welcome for other reasons. For one, it would begin to wash away the salt and sand that covers every paved surface in Minnesota. Rain would also aid in removing the solid sheet of ice that seems out to get me every time I stroll on to my driveway.

The ice wants to kill me. The roads want my shabby car to be filthy forever. Am I alone? Is it time for winter to give it up and head on down the road?

What's the deal with cheese?

Have you noticed recently how damn much cheese costs in our fancy-dancy grocery stores? Cheese used to be a sort of staple in the diets of many Americans. It makes sense being that those go-getter dairy cattle (mainly the holsteins) produce literally gobs of milk. I've seen 'em up close in my lifetime and it's amazing that an animal that with one not-so-directed kick can both knock your teeth out and provide you with upwards of 10-20 gallons of milk on a daily basis.

To me, that's one hell of a multi-tasker in the world of domesticated animals.

The cheese prices, though, have me flabbergasted.

Not too long ago I was running through the local Cub Foods store (which disgusted me but that's another story for another day) and needed a block of cheese. Not a want, it was a need. I arrived at a block of medium cheddar and began to notice how outrageous the prices were. Damn! The little 8 oz. blocks which used to be about $1.79 were suddenly approaching $3.00. I almost had a cheese seizure.

Come on. I know that gas prices have more than tripled in by 14 years (has it really been that long) of driving but the cheese price jump equates to a jump of over $2.00/lb in a few short months. I don't think we have a sudden shortage of holstein cows. To the contrary actually. I think that the cows are too numerous and could easily overtake us if they weren't so damn laid back chowing on grass all day long.

Yes, it would be a future where we were forced to serve our holstein overlords and they drank our milk at a leisurely pace. Think of the oddities in this alternate future. Human cheese. Cows eating male humans. Mandatory castration of males by our bovine rulers. The tables would be horrifically turned. I think we need to keep a watchful eye on cattle everywhere. They are shifty bastards who may or may not be witholding milk production in a sick and twisted plan to bankrupt us with escalated dairy prices.

Am I way off base here or am I eerily close to the truth?

How to grow up Minnesota style

Once upon a time there was a young boy who was bored and wanted to do something with his time. He lived an isolated life and despite not having many opportunities to spend money in fancy, big city stores, he still had the drive to do something to generate some funds.

One spring day he carved out a plot in a far-flung corner of the family garden and planted some sweet corn. He actually did it as it was the normal country thing to do but went a bit overboard and when early summer rolled around there was just too much damn sweet corn. What better way to dispose of it and earn some of that lucrative cash than to sell it.

And that's exactly what the boy did. He sold all of the excess sweet corn that first summer and the people who bought it came back wanting more. Not wanting to disappoint, the boy took their names and phone numbers and promised to call the following year when the crop was ready.

This continued and word of mouth grew. More people streamed down that dusty gravel road each year. The boy's mom saw all of these people and decided to sell some grocery bags of apples from her miniature orchard as the sweet corn season drew to a close.

By this time the plot of sweet corn had moved into a hard-to-farm nook adjacent to the family's yard. The addition of fall goods such as squash and pumpkins was added and the money made from the town-folk who drove to this farm was stuffed in to a savings account.

In short, if you hadn't figured it out yet, that boy was me. I made money that way (and a fair amount honestly) until I was 15 years old. If I could squeeze it in to that two acre plot, I would try to sell it. All told, I think I pulled out that routine for seven years. It financed the farm toy addiction I wrote about yesterday, it bought my first car, it bought clothes which my parents deemed too expensive and it started me on the long road to being a music consumer. And if I had two acres near my house I would do it again because even though it's back-breaking work it's fun and the money ain't half bad.

So, if you stuck around through that tale from the past, what sort of weird entrepreneurial endeavors did you undertake as a kid? Will I be forever viewed as a Osh Kosh B'Gosh-sporting country bumpkin after the past two posts?

Don't run from your roots

Yesterday we went on a raod trip of sorts. Sure, it wasn't to see an enormous ball of twine of Austin, MN's famed SPAM Museum but it was to see a sort of mecca for me.

Yes, we drove way the fuck out to Hutchinson, Minnesota to visit the McLeod County Fairgrounds. Now you may be wondering just why we would drive all that distance on a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon in the dead of March to visit a county fairgrounds in the middle of nowhere while the grounds are still covered with piles of snow.

The reason was toys. More specifically, Ertl brand toys.

It turns out that I had noticed a small advertisement last week about a farm toy show and being that we had the time we also made the drive.

As a bit of background for those of you who don't already know, I grew up on an actual working farm just a handful of miles from the very SPAM Museum I mentioned. Being that I was a true-blue farm boy, my parents instilled in me the fact that the best toys were farm toys. My dad bought them at area farm equipment dealers for me, my mom placed requests for them on my Christmas list and some of my hard-earned money was spent at a local -- get this -- farm toy store in, of all places, Iowa (it worked because we lived about 8 miles from Iowa).

As I got a bit older, my dad reluctantly took me on a few cold winter weekends to some farm toy shows. They were held within easy driving distance at county fairground arenas and hotel conference centers and for this farm kid, it was heaven.

Yesterday was no different. I wandered up and down the aisles of the rather busy fairgrounds arena in Hutchinson as the missus followed behind -- indulging what seemed to her an odd way to spend a Sunday. To me it seemed perfectly normal. The only thing that was out of the norm was the fact that I did not spend one single dime. I perused large collections, pricing things I knew I still had squrreled away at my parents' house and drooled over how the new toys are so much more detailed and intricate than those of days past. I jokingly asked for a couple thousand dollars to fill out the missing years in my collection as we left the arena and stopped for snacks at the nearest Casey's General Store.

This marked the end of our Sunday trek. I embraced my roots and as I scanned the radio, it stopped on a radio station playing some polka music. It was time for the wife to embrace her roots.

It made me wonder how many more closeted farm toy collectors there are in the world. Do they read this blog? What are some of the hobbies of the readers here? Did I see any of you in Hutchinson this weekend?

More talk about bridges

I am going to venture far outside of my normal topics here and fend off the last 2.5 reader I have and take a chance. If you don't lie it, tough. Things change and I'll be back in form come Monday.

Anyhow, I saw a mention of Farm Fest as I perused a website yesterday and it jogged my memory to a few different times in my life. The most recent being that it has officially wrapped up its run for this year at its locale southeast of Redwood Falls, Minnesota. I was thinking of it, too, because after a wedding and reception at Jackpot Junction Casino in nearby Morton, MN we drove by it by chance.

If you are unfamiliar with what Farm Fest is, it's essentially a huge outdoor trade show focusing on the world of farming. It's a dream world for everything agricultural and as close to a farmer's wet dream as they'll get without thinking about a breakdown-free fall harvest. Plus there's free stuff a-plenty. You can always count on leaving with a plethora of hats, notebooks and yard sticks.

It is important because, all of a sudden, farming is important again. It's how America gets its ethanol and soy-diesel. The clean air aspect of farming was most likely in the forefront this year. (I wouldn't know because I haven't explored the depths of my parents' magazine rack lately) Even with my citified persona, I am still tied to the homestead. That gets me thinking to another Farm Fest memory.

About 15 years ago Farm Fest was held for a three year run in my hometown of Austin, Minnesota. I remember my dad, the entrepenurial farmer that he is, getting involved in the production. He knows the area and it just so happens that he used to rent a farm from the then-owner of the Farm Fest show. He chatted numerous times with the then-owner and clued him in on who to get in touch with and landed a gig aiding in the preparation and set-up of the event. Then it rained. Alot. One day was entirely rained out and the others resembled a mud pit akin to that of a monster truck rally. That was the beginning of the end of that shortlived era.

And speaking of memories, there was my first time attending the event at its first quasi-permanent location just miles south of Mankato, MN where my dad is originally from. I must have been about 8 years old. I remember it being blistering hot as we pulled into the mowed hay field. I couldn't believe that my dad's rusty 1977 Ford F-150 had survived the 80-plus mile trip. My dad, even though he was far from the age of a child, became a sort of man-child. He hob-nobbed with old neighbors and various sales representatives who tried their best to sell my stingy dad on something. He, just like me, never bit once. He is a penny pincher and that explains alot about me.

Call it a bonding experience or call it the world's most boring story ever but whatever you call it, it's a way I connect my childhood with my present and future. Sure, I can't see myself farming but I can relate to their battles. If nothing else, I am a bridge between two very different worlds.