For several years, Hubby’s youngest brother has taken care of the farm (and his mother).  Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond his control, that’s not been possible for the last few months.  That’s why we’re here, trying to make sure that Mom’s okay and will continue to be okay.

One of the challenges at the moment is that the arrival of Spring (at 8 p.m. tonight, by the way) brings the need for farm maintenance — things like spraying fungicides and pesticides to ensure that the orchards are healthy and productive.  However, governmental regulation being what it is, even the little family farmer is required to be licensed to purchase and use the necessary chemicals.

Licensure requires passing a written test, which covers some 200 pages of technical material — chemistry, biology, and law.  Some weeks ago, Hubby recognized that someone needed to be licensed in his brother’s absence, and there are no other closer brothers (one’s in DC, the other in California) who could take over, even short-term.

In a nutshell, Hubby procrastinated studying the Michigan Department of Agriculture manual until about noon today, with the only test availability about 75 miles away at 7 p.m. tonight.  Had it been anyone but him, I would have said “don’t bother,” because there are plenty of examples locally of fellas who’ve farmed all their lives, but failed the test.

However, Hubby being 1) very intelligent and 2) a gifted test-taker, he scored 100% (having read the material only once, not finishing the manual until halfway through supper, a block from the test location).  The proctor said he’s only the fifth in five years to achieve a perfect score.

We’ll likely be making a few more trips up here over the next couple of months to spray the orchards, probably over brutal 3-day weekends.  We’re both hoping that youngest bro can return in time for the busy summer harvest, otherwise, we’ll likely be here a lot more then.  I’ll have to learn to drive the tractor and the big truck.

But, it’s better to have a solution — even if difficult — than to have none.  I’m grateful that at least we have that option.  It’s one less bit of stress on Mom.