Another year older --and wealthier

By Larry Dreiling

By the time you read this, I'll have entered my second half-century on planet Earth.

My 50th baseball season, wheat harvest and cow-breeding time approaches.

Yep, 49 and wanna be holding.

When you know you have more days ahead than days behind, you start getting reflective. You start asking questions of yourself.

How did I get here?

What is the meaning of life?

Will cowboys and farmers be friends in the new ethanol reality?

Is it possible for my beloved Fighting Tigers to avoid injuries and illnesses next basketball season?

Can the Royals ever lose less than 100 games?

Will women finally find me hot now that I'll be distinguished by age?

Or worse yet, as I discovered a few days ago:

What the heck day is it?

A meeting, scheduled for a town in Nebraska, was set to be held on a Thursday with a reception scheduled for the night before. Stupidly, I set my calendar to read that the meeting would begin on Wednesday.

This is despite the fact the letter inviting me to the meeting was correct and I had made hotel reservations a month earlier for the proper nights.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I drove up to the meeting a day early. I got to the hotel and discovered I wasn't booked into the place until the next night.

Well, duh, ya think?

Immediately, I started getting chills.

My God, I'm getting Alzheimer's here. Get the Aricept.

Well, shoot, I'm not staying in this town an extra night. Not in the town with my school's fiercest rival I'm not.

So, like the old fool I am, I drive home. As I make a short drive west before turning south, I see it's going to be a wonderful sunset on the High Plains of Nebraska.

Turning south, just before I reach the waters of the Platte River, I can tell the sun is at that perfect moment agricultural photographers dream of, when golden hues of the warm orb above splash against the azure of sky.

I've reached the countryside's golden hour.

Gracious. Well, let's not waste the gas in this tank. Let's go to work.

Fortunately, I'm working on High Plains Journal's annual irrigation issue set for publication next month. I'm driving near the Platte, there's irrigation aplenty around. I cross the river, approach an irrigation canal. I pull the Jeep over, grab my camera and start clicking away.

Down the road is a field with gated pipe and a center pivot. Interesting picture. I take a couple of shots there, too.

I think I got what I need. Time to put the camera away and start streaking home, where I think there's still food in the fridge. If not, I can always run across town and raid Dad's icebox. He can then taunt me with a "mind goes first, right Big Lar?"

Still, there's lot's to see on the way home, even with the diminishing light. There's lots of good things to see. Lots of good things ahead for my farmers and ranchers who read whatever it is I write.

The snows of December and beyond have filled farm ponds that have been empty for years.

The dormant wheat fields are black from all the moisture they've received.

An electric company truck is pulled over, a lineman riding a bucket to reconnect a power line. It's a sign spring isn't here yet, still....

Cows are munching on soft grass and sturdy corn stalks, their newborn calves suckling alongside.

Ahead of me, a spray rig turns into onto a county road. Planting season isn't too far away.

I stop for a cup of coffee along the way. The winds are coming up again. The forecast calls for a winter storm the next day. I may not make it back for that meeting after all. (I don't.)

I cross the Republican River. Harlan County Lake is filling up, the tall weeds of the once dry riverbed make the lake look more like a marsh. Hey, Friday's coming, let's get swampy. Pull some of that catfish your bud Brian caught down south and gave you a while back out of the freezer. You can put some Cajun spices on it and fry it up. Man, there's good stuff to come!

Rolling down the road, the sun gives off the day's last rays behind the Smoky Hills and even the dregs of the bottom of the coffee cup taste good. So what if I screwed up which day I had to travel.

I had a great drive home.

That's what brings me to this point. I may have started my journey back home disappointed, horrified by my mistake, feeling sorry for myself that I've more days behind me than ahead.

But in seeing life on the High Plains renewed even as the sun sets, I, too, am renewed. Whether it's a story ahead, or interesting travel, or helping my community or industry, or, last and not least, the joy of being near family and old friends, there's always something good to look forward to.

Yes, the drive home was great. I'm wealthier for it.

Where the ride really ends is up to God.

Let the journey continue.

Now, where are my keys?

Larry Dreiling can be reached by phone at 785-628-1117 or by e-mail at ldreiling@aol.com.

B

4

3/12/07

6 Star Midwest Ag

Date: 3/7/07

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