This is Farmer Fred's combine, broken down by the side of the road. It is not the only trouble we have had this harvest season.
For some reason harvest reminds me of Sinatra and the song "My Way."
I suppose it is the drama of the finish:
"And now the end is here, And so we face the final curtain.
My friend, let me be clear, I'll state my case of which I'm certain. The long hot days are full, We have a crop along the highway. And so I'll let you know, We did it MY WAY." (Or "Farmer Fred's Way" if he happens to be within earshot.)
Silly, I know, but a version or two of that song runs through my head every season.
Freudian, perhaps, but I try not to think about that.
In this dry year, we are especially happy to have a crop in our fields.
So when there are breakdowns I sing along with Sinatra:
"Breakdowns, we've had a few, but then again, too few to mention.
We did what we had to do, and saw it through without exemption."
Old Blue Eyes sings the lead, of course, but I write the lyrics in GriggsDakota.