A Farmer's Lesson Plan

Once upon a time in China , a farmer who had gotten on in age, began to be perturbed and riled by the feasting and pleasure-seekings of his three sons. He had toiled himself to dry marrow to build up this farm business. One night while starring up into the skies an idea rode in into his mind. 

 

The next morning he called his sons and said: 'Sons, I 'm gone - I might die any day now.This farm is here for you guys but it's hard work. Look at me , a scarecrow of bones. But never mind all that. There's a secret . I need to tell you this before it's too late. I heard from your grandfather that...that.. there's huge treasure buried beneath our farmlands.....' hardly had he wanted to say the rest when.. when his sons.. just VANISHED !  As the farmer peered out the window , he saw the eldest son and his two brothers running to the nether ends of the farm with hoes and spades in their hands. 

They began digging , turning the clods and soil over but careful not to harm the fruit trees and crops just budding.They dug and dug, day after day. The rains came. But they kept on at the digging . Soon it was all over. Dig they did with all the arms and energies they had. But there was no treasure found. 

  

One evening as they sat down , eyes met eyes.They looked at each other in askance.Perhaps the crafty , wily old fox had had them ?   

 

But, meanwhile, the rains and turning over of the soils brought one thing - a bumper crop and piles of cash.They realised then , that hard work and perseverance were all the hidden treasure their genius of an old man had fooled them into learning and meant !   

There's A Secret 

How An Iowa Farmer BEAT Drought ...

BOONE, Iowa — Unlike most of his Iowa neighbors, farmer Dick Thompson isn't expecting the US government to help him survive the drought.While others depend upon federally subsidized crop insurance, Thompson relies on old-fashioned farming methods to see him through.

Thompson also foregoes many of the tools of modern agriculture. He uses few chemical fertilizers and weed killers. He doesn't grow genetically modified crops.

He went for crop diversity, something lacking on many Iowa farms today. Corn and soybeans carpet the Iowa landscape. Many farmers grow nothing else. And when those crops do poorly, payments from crop insurance keep farmers in business.

Instead of crop insurance, Thompson protects himself the old-fashioned way. While he grows corn and soybeans, he also raises hay and oats, along with cattle and hogs. His oat crop was harvested before the drought hit. His third crop of hay sits scattered in round, shoulder-high bales on what will be next year’s corn field.

"I think it's common sense," Thompson says. "You've got diversity and you've got some protection there. If one crop doesn't do well, maybe the other one will make up for the difference." 

Thompson did not sell off his herds because his cows and hogs were good for more than income. They also provided the manure to fertilize the soil, eliminating the need for chemical fertilizers.

Read the rest of the story below.....



Prudence Helped Iowa Farmer Beat The Drought


[ the above is an excerpt for it's message]

Are You A Rubber Stamp ?

Are you someone's clone ? Have you been made into a square potato ( there isn't one ) from an original round one by every influence and personality over the growing up years?      

Our cultures embed into our psyches and personalities a compliance prone and tail wagging life/lifestyle . Practically everyone seems to have a hand in 'certifying' us ! Loved ones , good friends , best colleagues. So we get on the bandwagon of doing what everyone's doing..... dying at 30 but getting buried at 60 ! It's time to rethink what you'd rather be than what everyone wants you to be.

In particular , being an employee or a worker or being someone's spoke in their business or work wheel. It's time to examine if the way you're earning is going to make you , dumb you or perhaps break you !


Time To 'Discover' Yourself !

Charge Of The Angry Chickens

Not very long ago in an Asian nation the price of poultry in the marketplace fell off the cliff and whole chickens could be bought for the price of a cuppa.The farmers fell into delirium and worn out by the government’s snail attitude towards their plight  decided to strike their grief home .



They loaded their lorries with chickens of every  hue and size and drove them to Parliament’s doors unbeknown to anyone but themselves. Meanwhile on that day ,in Parliament as the lawmakers sat down to sip their coffees and munch on their pastries like they did every other day , there came sounds of what sounded like cackling  at the doors. The cackling  grew  louder  and  louder and suddenly thousands of chicks came down the hallways and into the meeting chambers. For a tense moment the lawmakers stared and gawked at the chickens that

blitzkreiged into their sanctum before hell broke loose. The hungry chickens, starved  for this moment and day , flew upon and clawed onto tables and the panic impaled lawmakers. They chased some down alleys , seized upon them from the air , jumped atop desks and started chomping on the sandwiches , cookies and whatever. As the pandemonium increased in crescendo cups and mugs went flying. As the fowls went about their tasks, the smell of chicken  excrement  filled  Parliament House’s air. Cries of anguish , screams of terror got drowned under by the hoots and chuckles of the cackling , gleeful chickens. 

While the fowls indulged in an eating and clawing orgy the nation’s eyes [live telecasts of proceedings]were turned to watch the carnage. Never before had they seen such clowning and anguish and dement upon the faces of their lawmakers. A scene that stood out was the battle atop the Speaker’s table. A cockerel flew at him [call it chemistry],clawed his paling cheeks and as his spectacles fell to the floor , the cockerel clambered atop his head and egested. He never for once thought nor the constituents imagined that he could run as fast as he did that day , fleeing past doors like the Flash.

When it was all over men and women lay sprawled and prostrate everywhere. The chickens lay, some standing, panting too as ambulances fled with screaming sirens towards hospitals. Troops from nearby bases rushed in, to quell the coup d’etat of  the chickens .

Though we can’t resort to do this but one thing we all know from experience is that , that’s what can happen to us emotionally when we ‘re pushed towards financial cliffs  or / and when our financial trees wither or are uprooted or get burnt.

Prepare Against An Attack 

Opinion: Growing old is no fun

I’ve gone from getting older to being old; and it’s not what I expected.

“Old age is not an easy ride, and retirement is not the Holy Grail that our culture and our expectations have painted it to be,” she writes. 

I am now 85 years old (it happened when I wasn’t looking), and I speak for myself and many of my contemporaries. Old age and retirement are not turning out as we expected.

We all know that this generation lives longer than any previous one, much longer, and there are many more of us. But some of us feel we have been deceived, or have deceived ourselves, because growing old comes with a huge diminution of strength, and we didn’t fully realize that.
And, although our society is kind to us old folks, it does not treat us with the respect some societies do.

When we worked and looked forward to retirement, we usually imagined it to be similar to our earlier life, but with the time (and strength) to indulge in hobbies and interests for which we had no time earlier. We now realize that this dream is not true. Everything we do now is much slower and far too much of our time is spent at the doctor’s office — and I speak as a relatively healthy woman.

Many now need help with such simple tasks as cutting their toenails. Shopping and cooking, visiting family doctors, heart doctors, the dentist ,dermatologists, arthritis doctors, eye doctors, the physiotherapist or seniors’ exercise class — these pursuits, just to keep us functioning and mobile — occupy far too much of our time.Not to mention those who have loss of hearing, eye problems, digestive upsets, chemo treatments, or who are recovering from, or waiting for, a new hip.

The brokerage firm Raymond James is running a commercial on TV showing a lady of 187 — yes, that’s right, 187 — hang-gliding, cycling and playing vigorous tennis. They also state that she is able to carry on these activities financially, because of judiciously having invested with their firm.What a crock of nonsense.

Most people I know, with the exception of the very rich, are concerned that their money won’t last as long as they do. We had all hoped to leave something to our children and grandchildren, maybe also to our favourite charities, but that dream has been supplanted with the hope that our money just lasts long enough to look after us.

Getting old is expensive, and I for one, consider it a selfish expense.I look healthy, and I thank God that I can do what I do each day, with limitations. But those limitations are meaningful. I take courses, I play bridge, I read a lot. And I manage my investments by myself; but all this with a severely diminished capacity. Often, we need to rest or nap during the day. Although some in my age group still do charitable work, my stamina does not allow it, and I regret that. Many of my friends live with pain, and almost all of us have some degree of impairment. Many old people are dependent on painkillers or sleeping pills. Too many of our friends die each year, and we regularly go to funerals or visit the sick. We have entered a new way of thinking, of behaving, and of looking at the world.

My point is that old age is not an easy ride, and retirement is not the Holy Grail that our culture and our expectations have painted it to be.Most of us do not fear death, and only wish for it to be rather quick and certainly painless. The growth of palliative care is something for which we are grateful. And this new law in Quebec allowing assisted death does not frighten us. We are grateful that we do not suffer from dementia, as some of our contemporaries do.

On the plus side, we no longer are “finding ourselves” and our place in the world.Those of us who live alone, especially with children no longer here in Montreal, have come to terms with that fact. Partners have died, siblings have died, old friends have died. We have moved away from loneliness and partially enjoy the freedom of answering to no one. But at the same time, we miss the age-old concept of children and grandchildren being a close part of our daily lives.

Friends and contemporaries have replaced family to a large extent, and we need one another. Thanks to the Internet and Skype, we can keep in touch with our families so much more than previous generations could, but the lack of daily-ness of nearby family means we always strive to sound cheerful and they do not know the extent of our medical conditions and cannot help us in daily tasks.I speak as a relatively lucky 85-year-old, but I repeat that old age and retirement bring with them many unexpected limitations.
I’m mostly happy and I think I’m still good company, but we have discovered that those of us who blossom into a new career as Grandma Moses, or who succeed in writing that book they have in them, are very rare indeed.

And did we really get wiser with age? I would like to think so, but is the younger generation listening, or do they have to make their own mistakes, as I did mine?

 http://www.montrealgazette.com/opinion/Opinion+Growing/10083282/story.html

It Ain't Easy To Kill An Octopus..

An octopus in the open sea might seem easy pickings for predators such as

moray eels, sea lions and bigger octopuses, but the octopus isn't quite such a sitting duck.It has quite an armory. It can disorient a pursuer with a splurge of purplish-black ink. If it lost a limb , it can regrow one. And just one thing more, it can change color in split seconds. Octopuses also go all over reefs, probing with their arms for prey in hiding.

In its hiding,an octopus will often lie out of notice,arms coiled, before a tentacle unrolls to snag a passerby with the suckers at the tip. While gallivanting through the oceans , its primary attack posture is to parachute gently down with all eight arms outstretched and scoop its prey in the embrace. Having lashed its victim the octopus holds it against its underside and bites it with a retractable beak. 

Shouldn't you be an octopus amidsts predatory times like today ? 

[The writer believes that in a changing world the best business is that in which your talents lie]