Stalker62
Well-Known Member
I have had a long day on the Shoot today.
'My' Farmer (as are all farmers) is busy - and they are also undergoing a dreadful year; with harvest down by about 50%. Cover crop for the up-coming season will be negligible to non.
It is a depressing thought.
Finally, (after days of nagging) my Farmer tells me where the Jimny is, that it is (always a moot point) "working", and that I have a supply of wheat I can help myself to.
I get to the farm early in an attempt to beat the rain, which is due in the early afternoon.
Mrs.62 is away for the weekend (and having taken the Cocker) means I am 'Billy-no-Mates'. On the up side, I don't have to rush home for anything - so I put in a full shift.
Not only do I exhaust the entire wheat supply I have been left, I am also on a 'clean-up' mission.

For the past month or so, I have been collecting those terrible plastic tree protectors. Utter shite. The worst thing ever invented, this side of semolina.
I have been taking them home, cutting them up and filling our bins with them.
Speaking to the Farmer's Father (also a farmer), he estimates they have been 'planted' about 25 years ago. They have not degraded, they will never (in my lifetime) degrade, and I hate the sight of them. He tells me the new 'generation' ones are better.
Anyhoo.
In the midst of my 'plastic litter rage', I suddenly notice something rather wonderful.
There, amongst a huge pile of rubble and soil, is the most beautiful bunch of Poppies.
Poppies are known to thrive in 'broken soil' (and the soil in WWI was indeed 'broken'),

...but it was just a signal that nature can still triumph; in spite of man's attempt to destroy it.

Not the first time I am ashamed of our species.
'My' Farmer (as are all farmers) is busy - and they are also undergoing a dreadful year; with harvest down by about 50%. Cover crop for the up-coming season will be negligible to non.
It is a depressing thought.
Finally, (after days of nagging) my Farmer tells me where the Jimny is, that it is (always a moot point) "working", and that I have a supply of wheat I can help myself to.
I get to the farm early in an attempt to beat the rain, which is due in the early afternoon.
Mrs.62 is away for the weekend (and having taken the Cocker) means I am 'Billy-no-Mates'. On the up side, I don't have to rush home for anything - so I put in a full shift.
Not only do I exhaust the entire wheat supply I have been left, I am also on a 'clean-up' mission.

For the past month or so, I have been collecting those terrible plastic tree protectors. Utter shite. The worst thing ever invented, this side of semolina.
I have been taking them home, cutting them up and filling our bins with them.
Speaking to the Farmer's Father (also a farmer), he estimates they have been 'planted' about 25 years ago. They have not degraded, they will never (in my lifetime) degrade, and I hate the sight of them. He tells me the new 'generation' ones are better.
Anyhoo.
In the midst of my 'plastic litter rage', I suddenly notice something rather wonderful.
There, amongst a huge pile of rubble and soil, is the most beautiful bunch of Poppies.
Poppies are known to thrive in 'broken soil' (and the soil in WWI was indeed 'broken'),

...but it was just a signal that nature can still triumph; in spite of man's attempt to destroy it.

Not the first time I am ashamed of our species.