When Jeff realized the tractor was slipping, the drill was already stuck, deep, and his first impulse was to curse. Loudly and profanely. His second impulse was to wonder if there was any way he could possibly keep his family from finding out.
“You can’t take the drill out tomorrow,” Jeff’s father Dale had said the afternoon before, when the Hansons were taking a quick coffee break out in the shop. “It’ll only be April 14th. We’ve never been in the field before April 20th on this farm.”
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“Dad, that’s only six days difference,” Jeff said.
“The poplars haven’t started to leaf out yet,” Dale’s father Ed chimed in.
“The weather forecast looks good for the next few days,” Jeff said. “Really small chance of rain tomorrow, but nothing after that.”
“You have to admit, the weather’s changing,” Jeff’s wife Elaine said. “Seeding earlier might make sense.”
“Oh, here we go,” Ed said happily, anticipating a debate. “I didn’t hear you mention global warming when you were taking that trip to Mexico last winter.”
Elaine ignored her grandfather-in-law and turned to see what her three-year-old was doing. “Jenny! That’s for the cats! If you’re hungry, come and have a muffin.”
“I know what this is about,” Dale said, grinning. “You’re just trying to get into the field before Blaine Thompson.”
“I am sick of him always being first,” Jeff admitted. “But that’s not the only reason. What do you think, Mark?”
The Hansons’ farm employee had come into the shop midway through the coffee break and was now standing in front of the Keurig machine on top of the mini-fridge, making himself a skinny mocha cappuccino. The Hansons had given up mocking Mark’s fancy coffee drinks when they realized he was ignoring them. One winter weekend when they’d run out of regular coffee and he was alone in the shop, Dale had snuck a pod from Mark’s stash, and actually liked it, not that he’d told anyone.
Mark considered the question while he wiped the dust out of his mug with his jacket sleeve. “The timing was different on my Granddad’s farm in Ontario. But if he was here, he’d tell you to wait.”
“Too early,” Dale agreed, nodding.
“And because tomorrow’s Friday. Granddad always said it was bad luck to start anything on a Friday.”
“That makes about as much sense as any of the rest of the advice around here,” Jeff said. “I’m going to put some of those yellow peas in the ground tomorrow. I’ll start with the Richards’ quarter.”
“You’re sure it’s not too wet?” Elaine asked.
“The ground’s warm enough,” Jeff said. “We might as well go.”
Friday morning was overcast and grey, not the warm, sunny, first-day-of-seeding weather Jeff would have preferred, but he didn’t think it was worth waiting another day. Not just because he didn’t really expect rain, but also because he didn’t want Dale and Ed thinking they’d been right. Jeff and Mark had filled the drill, and by nine a.m., Jeff was seeding, halfway around the headland for the second time.
“Ha,” he said to himself. “Good thing I didn’t sit around waiting for the magic date of April 20th.”
Then he sat up straight and looked around, knowing that talk like that was exactly the kind of thing that usually came right before disaster, or at least an embarrassing mishap. But no, all looked well, despite the grey sky.
In fact, it was almost 10:30 before Jeff felt the drill start to pull. Hard. He was on the edge of a low spot that had flooded in 2011. They hadn’t seeded it since, but it had dried up. Jeff had mowed down the cattails and weeds last fall, and figured the drill would go straight through. He’d been wrong.
Jeff unhooked the drill, thinking it would be simple to drive the tractor out of the low spot.
He was wrong about that too. When he took his foot off the clutch, the tires spun and mud flew 20 feet in the air.
Jeff sat on the tractor steps and considered his situation. Dale and Mark were both in the yard, dealing with some seed customers and refilling the seed tender. Was there any way he could get out of this mess without them finding out? No, he finally decided. Not unless he wanted to jog five and a half miles home, then crawl through the yard like a ninja to sneak the chains out of the shed. And how would he get the chains back to the field?
So Jeff called Mark, and then called Shawn, who farmed a few miles south of the Hansons.
Forty minutes later Jeff and Mark were attaching the chains to the tractor hitch when Shawn pulled into the yard with his high-horsepower four-wheel drive. Jeff had zipped his jacket all the way up, and was glad he had his gloves with him.
“I guess we’ve settled that argument about which is better, tracks or tires.” Shawn laughed as he stepped down from his tractor to help Jeff and Mark hook up the chains. Jeff noticed Shawn was still wearing his winter coveralls, and wished he had his on too.
With Shawn’s help, the tractor came out of the slough quickly. Jeff used his own tractor to pull the drill out. “I’ll start over where it’s dry and pull on an angle,” he told Shawn. “I don’t want you thinking the paint colour makes your tractor that much better!”
While he was turned in his seat to watch the drill, Jeff noticed a smattering of rain on the tractor’s rear window. By the time he got out to unhook the chains, it had really started to rain. Jeff pulled his hood up and shivered, wishing he’d thought to bring his toque.
He was trying to decide if the rain was serious enough to keep him out of the field when the rain turned to snow. Now he was definitely done for the day.
Of course Ed and Dale were both on hand to watch when Jeff brought the tractor and drill back to the yard. By then, wet snow was piling up on the ground.
“This was not in the forecast,” Jeff muttered when he climbed out of the cab.
Ed was almost gleeful. “So this is global warming, hey?”
“Maybe if that mud freezes up, we can just chip it off the tires,” Dale said. “We might not even need the pressure washer.”
Mark disappeared into the shop as Elaine came out from the house. Little Jenny was wearing her winter snowsuit, holding her mother’s hand.
“Daddy!” Jenny yelled as she got closer to Jeff. “Can we build a snowman?”
“She doesn’t have time,” Elaine said. “Emily Thompson is coming over for a playdate. Emily’s mom says it’s not snowing at all over there. Blaine’s seeded a quarter section already.”
“That’s April for you,” Dale said. “Even the weathermen can’t guess what’s coming next.”
Then Mark came out of the shop, holding a travel mug.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Jeff. “This’ll warm you right up.”
Jeff took the mug, then took a sip. Skinny mocha cappuccino. It couldn’t hurt.
