Ah, the annual rhythms. After the county fair winds down, summer starts its languid, downhill swing. The air is heavy with smell of crops. Mosquitoes by the million roar as the sun goes down. The days aren't aren't in a hurry to get shorter. That doesn't happen until after September 21, when the bottom falls out of the summer and the sun bolts south.
The gardens at the nursery really look good. They were planted later than ever, but they are turning into something to see sooner than ever, or so it seems. Not sure why. Hot weather is a good thing, and Dad is out there with the sprinklers all day, every day.
A local farmer said it took a mere six days for the corn to go from knee-high to over our heads. That is multiple inches per day. If you listened, you probably could hear the corn grow.
There simply aren't many small grain fields this year, and unlike many years, I don't see the small grains turning tan quite yet. I drove around today and everything was green. Almost every field is planted in corn or soybeans. I don't quite understand it. Corn prices are going down due to the massive acerage devoted to the crop, yet few farmers tried to pull a fast one and plant what nobody else was planting. I am not sure how that process works, but I would think it would pay to be where everybody else is not.
With corn prices down, making ethanol is once more profitable. Some ethanol plants which were mothballed are now back in action.
This is the time of year we long for all winter. At least I do. I am determined to relish it.