As city folks, we lapse into a comfort zone that is quite easy. When we want food, we simply go to the store and trade Fiat currency for munchies. Some folks live a very spartan existence. They live in apartments, take the bus, and do very little beyond work. Farmers on the other hand must work their asses off.
My mother and father in law both passed away at 91 years old. Before he had retired to Pahrump, Nevada, and a cabin in Beaver, Utah, he was a cotton farmer. Even after selling his Cotton farm with Colorado River water rights, he still had his cherished farm equipment. In fact, Jack’s Oliver tractor would always come up in conversation like it was a good old hound dog. The tractor had not been started for at least 3 years. Anyways, I drained the tank, installed a filter bowl, and hot wired it. It started immediately. It was like a dog wanting to go for a ride in the pickup and did not want to be left behind.
Jack had several tractor attachments. The attachments must go back up to his little farm in Utah. This meant loading the attachments into a utility trailer. Man, what a bunch of work. And to think this is just one little aspect of a farmer’s life. This stuff is heavy. My word!!!
Now had I been a farmer instead of sitting on airplanes, I would be fit as a fiddle….