An itinerant tractor mechanic has seemingly taken up residence in my equipment shed. I think he’s having his mail forwarded there. I try not to talk to him. Our last conversation cost me $5,000. He says my new part will be in on Tuesday, and he’ll finally be done with my planter tractor on Wednesday. Or Thursday.

My son-in-law is rebuilding my planter now. He works cheaper than the other guy, but planter parts are just as dear as anything else sold by John Deere. My generator threw craps and the turbo went out of my pickup. Again.

We were lucky and got our fertilizer applied last fall. At least I’m not faced with higher nitrogen prices as a result of the Iran war. It’s spring, and I’m grumpy.

We farmers are often given great credit for our optimism. Barrels of ink and billions of bytes have been spilled describing our sunny dispositions as we head to the field each spring, confident against all odds that this year will be wonderful. We’ll avoid a drought, hail stones won’t fall, and against all odds, we’ll raise a good crop at profitable prices.

This spring should test that optimism. Crop prices are low, inputs are expensive, and we haven’t had any measurable precipitation since last fall. Only a fool or somebody with unbridled optimism could approach this year with anything less than, well, grumpiness.

Or, maybe it’s not optimism but heavily subsidized crop insurance that keeps us going.

Whatever the reason, I’m looking forward to the spring season. Spring is nerve-wracking, at least for me. Unlike fall, when I can see progress and tell how I’m doing on the combine by walking around the back of the machine, planting is more uncertain. I can wear out my overall knees and my pocketknife digging in the rows for signs of life, but you are never sure that the seeds will sprout. A hard driving rain at the wrong time, an influx of cut worms, or any number of other things can go wrong. But when those first seeds poke their heads above ground on a warm sunny day and rain is in the forecast, it’s easy to look forward to a record crop.

I can’t control market prices. My son-in-law and I can control how well our planter works, how our seeds are placed, when we choose to plant them. All important decisions, and all well within our purview. Which is why planting makes me worry, and why most of the satisfaction I receive from farming is when I do those things well. If I have a perfect stand and good weed control and it just refuses to rain, I try to be philosophical about the unpleasant results. I never remain calm when Mother Nature doesn’t cooperate, but I work at it.

This could be the year when everything works. I’ve changed up our fertility program, and I’m looking forward to seeing how that works out. The rebuilt planter should, and I emphasize should, do a better job of seed placement. I’ve cheapened my herbicide program on corn, so I’m taking some risk there, but I’ve had good control the past few years and I’m hoping I can slip by for fewer dollars.

I’ve been ignoring all those ads about free money to gamble on sports here in Missouri. Like most farmers, I get all the gambling I want in the day-to-day decisions I make.

Like the weather, I can’t do much about public policy. Well, I complain a lot, but it does little good. I can only hope that the past decade or so of misguided ag policy will cause our leaders to reevaluate what works and what doesn’t when it comes to the rules that govern agricultural trade. We can’t continue to treat our customers poorly and expect them to stick around.

Farmers have benefited greatly from renewable fuels, and like most farmers, I’m excited about the further opportunities that renewable fuels can provide. But it’s not enough, not nearly enough. We have to have access to markets in the rest of the world, and we benefit when we can import the things we need without paying extra taxes or countervailing duties or retaliatory tariffs. Those are lessons we are having to relearn, and it has been painful.

The economist Herb Stein rather famously said, “if something cannot go on forever, it will stop.” I may kid about optimism, but I can’t help but look forward to the future with a great deal of hope. Markets are showing signs of life. Policymakers are making noises about fixing some of our recent policy mistakes. We’ve got a chance of rain later in the week. My USDA bridge payment has hit my back account, and I’ll just sign it over to the guy living in my shed. I can’t wait to start putting seeds in the ground. This is the time of year we farmers live for, and I’m ready to go!