For the first three plus decades of his adult (the word is used loosely) life, the Colonel's accumulation of wrinkles in his gray matter centered on the art and science of leading men in that manliest of dance forms--the battlefield ballet. Upon his retirement from the Marine Corps, the Colonel attempted to retrain as a businessman.
Business was good, but the Colonel wasn't good at it.
In truth, learning to be a good capitalist wasn't all that hard. Having to deal with undisciplined civilians was the Colonel's undoing, however. After playing for years on a BCS team, it was more than difficult for the Colonel to subject himself to playing on the sandlot.
So, the Colonel tucked his two masters degrees into his Marine Officers Qualification Record, placed them out of sight in the bottom desk drawer, bought some acreage and a tractor, and became a farmer.
A bib-overall clad, ball cap-wearin', grass stem-chewin', kudzu-hatin' farmer. Really. How hard could being a farmer be? Looked like the perfect occupation for this Type A looking for a Type B lifestyle.
Turns out the Colonel had a whole new education ahead of him. Here's just a representative sampling of the things the Colonel didn't know four years ago:
A sawmill produces more sawdust than lumber.
Sawdust is inedible, and difficult to breathe.
Tractors and ditches don't mix.
Rolling over is not a trick one should teach his tractor.
Tractors don't swim.
A chainsaw doesn't discriminate.
Extension ladders don't have seatbelts.
A gravel drive will drive one crazy.
Tractor implements are not designed for high speed turns.
A post hole-digger quickly become odious in one's sight.
Chickens don't give live birth.
Roosters don't lay eggs.
Rain is not guaranteed.
The term "Ready-mix" on a bag of concrete is not synonymous with easy-mix.
High-water marks should not be ignored.
Stumps and bush-hogs don't mix.
The intensity and half-life of skunk-spray is directly proportional to the proximity of the spraying skunk to one's front porch.
Nothing is more valuable than a neighbor with a bigger tractor.
Nothing holds more promise than a freshly plowed field.
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