It is December as I write this January editorial. Much has changed on the world scene, but amidst the chaos of the world leaders and the futile wars, my ridge—the place that I farm—remains the same.

The farm has always been my rock, my place of sanity when the world and its people run amuck. My farm follows its cycle uninterrupted as it has for thousands of years.

December is the beginning of the new year. More brown than usual this year, because of not enough rain. The ponds are down, but my sheep are still in good shape, and I am looking forward to a bunch of bouncing balls when the spring lambs hit the ground.

I was very late sowing my cover crop this year, but we did not have any rain to bring it up, so maybe I was not late after all. The sheep are picking through the cornstalk fields now for an occasional missed ear of corn and missed weeds.

Threshing seed and shelling corn for next year is part of the farm cycle. I have been saving seeds for 38 years. Now very long when you realize that some of the seeds I am saving have been handed down for 150 years. I have only added 38 years to the total, but these seeds are close to being as old as our nation. Heirloom open-pollinated seeds truly are living antiques. They are a treasure that springs from the soil each year, with hope renewed for a prosperous new year. If people like you and me do not plant them and keep them pure, the genetics contained in this little time capsule is lost forever.

Planting the seeds is part of the farm cycle, just like saving the seeds is part of the cycle. Then comes mulching, weeding, maybe watering, and fighting the bugs and disease, until finally you harvest the seed again, thresh it, clean it, and store for next year.

I have about 18 types of tomatoes, 14 kinds of O.P. corn and four or five of garlic, several types of gourds, a good variety of pole beans, and some squash.

Each year when I clean the seed and think about the great meals they made for my family, I wonder how many farmers before me have had the same thoughts.

I have about 10 breeds of heirloom chickens. I incubate the eggs and sell chicks and pullets each year. Each year predators are part of the cycle. We fight a never-ending battle against raccoons, opossums, skunks, owls, and hawks, trying to fortify the chicken houses, build tighter pens, and keep brush mowed close by the houses.

Sometimes the predators win and sometimes I win, but it is all part of the cycle.

Farming is not for folks who like to jump in and out of projects. You have got to be there for the long haul and the big picture.

You either love farming or you grow to hate it, because you have to endure its cycles. The cycles come and go with nary a thought about your likes and dislikes, because you, too, are part of the cycle.