The breakfast session at Mabel’s Grill was a little earlier than usual one sunny, warm day recently.
    “I’ve got a lot of crop to get planted,” explained Dave Winston   who had the biggest cash crop acreage, as well as his busy pig barn.
    “Times like this I’m glad I don’t have more crop than I do,” sighed Cliff Murray as he scanned the menu.
    “You guys are early this morning,” said Molly Whiteside as she arrived to take their orders. “You must have exciting days ahead.”
    “Oh yeah, watching a couple of hundred acres of dirt go past the tractor-cab’s window,” sighed Dave.
    “Well I just saw this story on the TV news that in the next decade 40 per cent of Canadian farmers are going to retire,” said Molly.
    “Well not before this crop gets planted,” sighed Dave.
    “You can tell he hates planting,” said Cliff with a wink. “He’s been out in the shed getting the equipment ready to go for months now.”
    “I’ll have the pancakes and fresh maple syrup,” said George Mackenzie, who had been immersed in the menu as the guys talked. 
    “Well, he’s in a good mood this morning,” smirked Dave. Still, it prompted the rest of the guys to decide their orders, which Molly took after warning they might be slower getting their orders because things were plenty busy this early.
    “What’s bothering you this morning?” wondered Cliff.
    “I’m thinking of selling out,” grumbled George.
    Dave expressed amazement. “I thought we’d have the reception after your funeral on your farm.”
    “Yeah, well, the wife gave me this article to read that said how much farmland was selling for these days,” grumbled George. “I could be a millionaire if we sold out and moved to town instead of stayed farming with my wife working to keep us going. I think she’s getting tired of working.”
    “I saw that article,” said Cliff. “It makes you wonder why we’re working and worrying when we could be living a good life in town.”
    “But we keep farming and when we die our kids, who didn’t want to farm but wanted to teach or be in medicine or some other high-paying town job, can sell our farms and split the money and take vacations in Mexico,” grumbled George.
    “Thankfully, my kids aren’t old enough to worry where are they going to find the kind of money they’d need to buy me out anyway,?” commented Dave.
    “And then you see articles like the one that Molly was talking about that say 40 per cent of today’s farmers are going to retire in the next 10 years and you wonder where the buyers are going to come from?” said Cliff.
    “I can’t say I’m looking forward to moving to town after spending my whole life on the farm,” sighed George. 
    “Yeah, when they were home for Thanksgiving last Fall, my son, who lives in a 22nd storey condo in Missisauga, was up early and saying he’d forgotten how quiet it was at sunrise,” Cliff recalled.
    “My daughter, the chiropractor from Waterloo, told my wife and I she sunbathed naked in the backyard when she was a teenager and we were off at the CNE,” George confessed. “I’ll bet she doesn’t do that in her backyard now.”
    “It’s a good job you live up a long lane with plenty or trees,” said Dave. “She was one good-looking girl!”
    “Mind your manners or I’ll tell your wife,” George said.
    “Tell his wife what?” asked Molly as she delivered their orders.
    “We were just following up on that information you had earlier about 40 per cent of farmers retiring in the next decade,” said Cliff.
    “You thinking about selling out?” Molly wondered.
    “George is,” said Dave.
    “Really? Will you still be coming  in every morning?” Molly wondered.
    “Probably,” George said.
    “Good,” said Molly, “but I hope you can tip better when you’re a retired millionaire.” ◊