"ONE HOUR JOBS TAKE THREE HOURS"

Many of you e-mailed me or called after reading "The Smell of the Hunt." Other than shedding tears, the most prevalent comment was "I was there. I really felt like I was a part of that hunt." And each somehow related his comments to experiences with his dad. I thought "Smell" would be the right story for the Father's Day weekend roll-out of this blog. Thank you each and every one for your kind remarks.

My dad's been gone 24 years now. I marvel at what a profound influence he has had on my life even in his absence. What a job he did as a father in the 28 years I shared with him. I find myself repeating what I thought at the time to be trite cliches. I've learned those cliches were the mantra by which he lived.

"One hour jobs take three" was one of those cliches. "The job really does take just an hour," he would begin, "but, by the time you have to repair your equipment or make a trip to town to get a part or something else you need to do the job, it will take three hours."

Sure enough, over the weekend, after re-mowing the three remaining food plots and treating them with herbicide, I positioned the Troy-bilt 5.5 hp rear tined tiller in the largest plot leaving about 1/4 of the width on the northside untouched. The idea here is to plant millet [that matures in about 100 days] in the center of the plot leaving about half of this one-third acre plot - the one nearest the Holston Army Ammunition Plant property and the greatest distance from the main channel of the Holston - to sow with oats in another 3-4 weeks. This mix insures matured crops throughout much of the fall.

I tilled no more than 10 feet when the job fulfilled Dad's prophecy. The drive belt broke leaving me no choice but to abandon the tiller and order a new belt. By the time I pick up the belt and install it, the one hour job will take at least three hours!