Tim Moffett

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The following ideas, opinions and random thoughts are NOT necessarily those of this magazine, its affiliates, advertisers, friends, relatives, my ex’s, rodeo clowns or anyone who does not have a sense of humor.

If Santa were a farmer, people might actually believe their food came from somewhere other than the grocery store.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been torn. Now, I don’t want to break anyone’s ideas or tell you Santa actually does or doesn’t exist, but what always makes me curious is: Do you think Santa could be a farmer or not?

The Manure Spreader By Judge me if you must. Would you leave your crop half-harvested? Would you leave your field half-mowed? Would you only milk half your cows? No, people. I was not going to leave a pie half-eaten.

I got roped into having a farm tour for my niece’s third-grade class. I’m not complaining about trying to educate these young minds on agriculture. I’m not venting about the “helicopter” moms wiping my entire farm down with Clorox wipes.

I will never understand people’s obsession with costumes. I was invited to a costume party a while back, and when asked what I was going to come as, I replied, “A sexy farmer.” To which, my friend asked me: “Why?”

 Statistics show the average person changes careers five to seven times in a lifetime. I couldn’t find any statistics on how many job titles a farmer has in one day. One particular rough Tuesday, I was a carpenter, plumber, ob-gyn (cow version) and an undertaker.