Same: resembling in every relevant respect
corresponding so closely as to be indistinguishable
As long as I can remember, the entry into summer has had a predictable rhythm. It rains. Like a lot. Wet Dog Season gets old. Really old. Finally, spring decides to leave, dripping all over the floor on its way out. The days get longer, things begin to dry out, and we start watching the weather for The Haying Window.
We’ve talked about The Haying Window before, but to recap, it is a seven to nine day window of hot hot sun, clear skies, wind (preferably light to moderate), and NO rain in the forecast. Once identified and timing is confirmed with the Baler, activity around the farm really ramps up.
In the days leading up to Go Day, equipment gets jockeyed and staged so everything is ready. Blades get sharpened. Joints get greased. Radiators are topped off and air filters blown out. We’re disciplined around here. The hay gets done. Equipment gets maintenanced. Hoses get pulled and sprinklers set out (because perimeter fire break and the sequoias are thirsty). Later in the summer, outbuildings get pressure washed (one of my legit FAVORITE farm chores). Dogs get bathed. Trees get trimmed. Burn pile(s) get built and tarped. A rhythm.
This year, sitting on the tractor sometime on Day 4, it occurred to me that things can be the same from season to season, and yet different at the same time.
Same. But different. The Season comes, with all the prep work–and then goes, with all the maintenance and wrap up. But each year, The Haying Window comes at a different time. Sometimes it’s mid-June and cold enough to break out the flannel lined overalls, and sometimes it’s over the 4th of July and hot enough to … not wear flannel lined overalls🙂 Sometimes spring is super dry and sometimes it’s even-the-dog-will-leave-a-rut wet and soggy.
Same. But different. Every year, we grow out the field, cut, rake, and bale hay. And every year some equipment mayhem breaks out. Like the year that different sections were SO thick that every 2 rounds or so I had to unwrap the mower–meaning there was so much to cut that it wasn’t 100% dry near the ground and wet grass wound itself around the disc blades to the point the blades couldn’t spin. Or “field fixes” like the year the v-belts (literally) burned up, which is, for the record, super scary. Or the year the tractor’s starter went out mid-Day 3.
Same. But different. The purpose behind haying for us is to get grass we don’t need off our field and into the barns and bellies of our customers and their horses who do. Some years the bales run a little light. Other years they run a little heavier. And even if my own experience stayed constant from year, everyone else involved would have their own version of same, but different.
On one hand, I sometimes wish the seasons were less distinguishable. On the other, every season brings new adventure. I gain more experience about what works and what doesn’t. Anticipation of the unexpected keeps me from getting complacent.
Points to Ponder: consider something routine in your routine.
- Is it truly a carbon copy of every instance before it or are there places that are the same, but different?
- How is your experience the same, but different from other process participants? Is that good, bad, or ugly?
Actionable Application: Look for an opportunity to level-up the routine.
- evaluate the to-do’s (or identify a stop-doing)
- level-set expectation about process and/or desired outcome
- create shared vocabulary
- etc.