The Masters

As all golf addicts know, it’s the Masters weekend. The first major of the year. The only major that is played on the same course every year. And a classic it is. Absolute beautiful course. A course that all golfers of all calibers would like to play. I suspect even some non-golfers would enjoy a walk around the lush, green vista of Augusta, Georgia. A time of year when flowers begin to bloom, the azaleas looking spectacular. An annual event that golfers, particularly in our part of the country, watch. We dream of playing in the big leagues. We anticipate our own games as we wait, with baited breath, for courses to open after a long, dreary winter. A long drawn out spring. Waiting for the feel of a warm sun. Dreaming of that elusive score. Always wanting to improve. Wanting to win. The million dollar pay check for a professional becomes secondary to the stomach churning, mind boggling desire to golf. So the only thing better for this weekend would be if I could golf. Obviously not going to happen so watching the Masters is the next best thing.

I suspect many farmers have similar feelings as they watch snow melt and anticipate what’s to come. Curious what the year will bring. A desire to improve. In many cases, wishing for improvement over the “last round”. Prices are good. Now if only the crop can be put in in a timely way. Hoping mother nature will cooperate. Dreaming of times when things were good. Hoping for that ultimate year when the stars line up. The year when production is better than ever. When prices peak. When all things work out so that dreams can be realized.

In all my whining, over the last month or so, about weather, about snow not melting fast enough, of temperatures not warming up, people have often reminded me of the flooding threat in many areas. Media is beginning to report of ice jams, of areas declaring state of emergencies. Many people are anxiously waiting to see how bad it will be. Many people worry of what will happen.

Talked to one Red River farmer who has already adjusted his plans for the year. Already knows that the crop will probably not go in till June. A time when deadlines loom. And, of course, that means there is a concern for early frost in the fall. Means a change of cropping plans. Means a change for the bottom line. Too much uncertainty.

So as much as things change, they stay the same. Here is hoping that things work out. Hoping that mother nature is kind. Hoping that all of us can “shoot” par. Hoping no one needs any mulligans. And if we don’t shoot par I hope for all of us to be able to try again. I know I will. Make it a good one.