Growing in my younger days was exciting and all, but now trying to do the same thing is rather exciting, mainly because I’m amazed at how a lifetime of growing and selling hay would have been much easier in the 1960s because there was more cheap land. But anyways, I digress. When I plant my seeds I don’t just sit around afterwards if you know what I mean. My hay sells well because I carefully cultivate it starting from the seed itself. By the time my hay is in a bale I’m sleeping with a half-bottle of Montreal brandy and the dogs are chasing the the wolves away. Maybe not that dramatic but at least I wake up the next day to see the work done.
Now if an old man who still grows hay is to consider himself successful he must ask himself “Do I have grandsons reaping and sowing my hay?” Even if you disgorge ordure on yourself you can lean up with pride knowing that farm you built from that was strong enough to hold you is still pumping out hay and generations of kids! Today as its if the farmer isn’t working anymore, and yes I’m that farmer making my grandson do all the work! Son!
Now that you know a little about my life growing hay as an old man, the main point I’d like you to take away is that it takes a lifetime to raise hay farm from its bootstraps. If you were to buy a piece of land in North America today and try to grow hay on it you might as well be trying to pluck marshmallows out of strangers’ coffee at Tim Hortans without getting your ass kicked.