The Tough Coughs As He Ploughs The Dough.

When it was found that corn was required this year I had about a week’s window for getting the ground plowed so that I could disc it twice before planting and get the planting done before the first cutting of hay was to be mowed down. My dad had written me a two page letter attempting to explain plowing to a farming n00b. I solicited extra plowing advice from some guy named Jeff.

It took me from last Thursday till tonight to finish plowing two smallish fields. I was held up by the rain, by playing ultimate, by dismantling my car, by women’s pro football, by breaking the plow (and minorly, the tractor), and by moving cows. But it’s done.

I broke the plow Monday evening but my Uncle’s hunting buddy, down to hunts the wild turkey was willing and able to weld me back together on Tuesday. Someday I won’t be so lucky and will be forced to learn the clever arts of cutting torch and stick welding myself.

Plows are badass pieces of machinery. I take my farmer hand and make the earth to do my bidding. "Flip over, Earth, flip over."
Each share (blade) cuts and flips over a 7inchish thick piece of sod. My plow has five blades. They are shiny. And pretty. My tractor has somewhere around 50 horsies* available. My tractor struggled at times pulling my plow through my soils. How ancient (pre-internal combustion engine) peoples with only a couple of horses available to pull a plow ever got anything done is beyond me.

* you car people have a stilted view of what a horsepower is and does.