​This is the first time in many years the thought of spring doesn’t fill me with dread. 

Spring doesn’t mean EXACTLY the same thing in Co-op circles as it means for most people. 

For the majority, spring means warmer weather, maybe thinking about planting a garden, or putting in a pool, going to the lake, planning barbeques. 

Spring at the Co-op means an absolute onslaught of people, demanding grass and vegetable seeds, fertilizer, herbicides, pesticides, you name it. Spring means a season of calves brought in thunderstorms by heifers, the constant nuisance of flies, and the persistant worry of when the rain’s coming-will it be soon enough? Can it hold off till you get this last field spread? 

Old men and new farmers haggle over buggies and sprayers and sod drills. They raise Cain that the price of chemicals are cheaper by three dollars the next county over. They gripe and complain about being subjected to “all these changes” and “you about can’t make a livin’ anymore, with you a-robbin’ us blind!” 

Yes. Clearly, I’m the one to blame. 

There’s the warehouse screaming on the radio to quit sellin’ Kennebec seed potatotes, how many times do they have to tell us we’re out till Houser gets back from Tenco? The phones are ringing with people wanting to know when the farmers market is starting and why won’t the damn tire shop won’t answer the phone. 

It’s wanting to go pee so badly but having to wait until one of your regular/ favorites is before you and you can whisper to them to hold on, or perhaps while running to the back to check and see if some wire came in-because the warehouse is too busy to answer you- you can nip through the restroom. It’s calling your supervisor in tears because some jackass threw a 5# bag of $30 dog food at you because you were taking too long to ring up a prepay ticket for $30,000- more than you make in a year-to one of the locals so he won’t have to wait on a ticket and blend sheet five times a day. 

It’s ordering merchandise in the 8:30-9:30 hour, that sweet moment between madness when everybody is out in the sunshine, weeding and working before it gets too hot. You know you’ll have to use some newbie to hopefully stock your shelves once it all comes in, because there’s no hope for you to get a “break” to do it. And it won’t be dusted and fronted but it might be in the right place.

You’re never fast enough, or smart enough, or friendly enough to suit 75% of shoppers. 

It’s frantic phone calls to Lavergne, where is the 10′ tedder you promised would be here today, or what do I do for a horse that has an eye infection, or is the generic Roundup ever going to be available this year? It’s 500 baby chicks delivered three times a week waiting to be squeezed to death by some little snot nosed kid whose parents had the misguided notion that poultry are pets.

It’s standing on your feet on concrete for ten hours and smiling at every person you see and wishing them good luck on their endeavor and praying you’ll have the energy to do it again tomorrow.

No, I don’t miss all that. That’s the definition of spring to me.

Be kind in your journey, today and all days.