With harvest upon us, and I suppose many finished or near completion, this may be a timely little story. I had not heard of it before.
This reminds me of a story my uncle used to tell about a neighbouring farmer:
The neighbour was older and probably better off than most. He always had custom harvesters in to take his crop off, and was always done well ahead of everyone else. Without fail, the very minute the last bushel of his crop went into the bin, he would look up at the sky and say, “Gosh it’s dry. Sure could use a rain!”
My uncle, who was not one to swear lightly, said, “I’m sure the old cocksucker laid in bed at night and prayed for rain on our crops.”
Anybody else have an anecdotal harvest story to share? I’d like to hear it!
The Prairie Fiddler 