Sometimes in life, a “do-over” is a good thing, a second chance. We might take a mulligan after a shanked golf shot. Maybe a recipe doesn’t turn out, and we tweak the ingredients and give it another try. But when the do-over is fifty acres of corn you have to replant? That’s not so good.

I just finished planting our crops. Again. It was one of the more interesting planting seasons in forty-some years of doing this work. In the same way that a root canal is interesting.

Winter was cold and snowy and long. April didn’t give us any of those sun-dappled, early spring days when corn can go in the ground on the recommended dates. Things straightened around in May, and tractors roared out to the fields. Surprisingly, there were perfect conditions when we did plant corn.

We just finished corn ahead of forecasted rain on May 10. Good, I thought. We’ll get a nice break before soybeans. A three-inch rain on Thursday was a bit much, but the ground was dry, so not a big deal. A little more on Friday, then a lot more Saturday night. We got eight inches all together; others got up to twelve.

A lot of corn seed was underwater. It was to be expected that those wouldn’t grow. After a few days, it became apparent that other large areas weren’t going to sprout corn either. So much for perfect conditions.

A lot of our corn field was a poor stand or no stand. I’ve never replanted so much before, so this was a new experience. It was tedious and stressful work, with no guarantee that it is going to be successful. One can easily plant fifty acres in a day, but it took three days to replant that much. It was lot maneuvering here and there to get to the right spot.

Time on the tractor gave me time to think about other things that we do over besides corn planting and golf shots. Sometimes we don’t get things right the first time. Sometimes we learn and do it better the second time. Other times it just takes a while to figure it out.

I thought about baseball and how each time up to bat is a new opportunity. The strikeout you had in the first inning doesn’t matter in the fourth inning. Within the at-bat, each pitch is a new chance. You might want that last pitch over. But you don’t get that pitch, you get this pitch. Like a lot of life, it doesn’t pay to dwell on the past.

Our garden is a do-over every year. It begins with exacting plans and an image in my mind of bounteous vegetable plants, each thriving in their spot, sending a supply of heathy food to our kitchen. Then comes August. Some didn’t come up, rabbits got others, and weeds are the thriving ones. But there’s always next year. Isn’t that what Vikings fans say?

I remember when Pam had me paint a bedroom three times wanting to get the color just right. That was do-over, or paint-over, that I grumbled about.

Writing a column is an ongoing set of do-overs. You write. Then you re-write. Then you throw out paragraphs that looked good two days ago, but now look stupid. Finally, you send one of the re-writes to the editor. When you see it in print, you immediately want to re-write it. But alas, it is what it is.

Marriage is something people try a second time. A first marriage might have a lot of drown-out spots where not much is growing. Sometimes a replant works there. Pam and I have been married 42 years. We’re still trying to figure each other out. I’m not sure I’d want to start that all over.

There are other things that you don’t get to do over as much as you might want. Raising kids comes to mind. It’s the most important thing we’ll ever do. But no matter how much thought and effort we put into it, we never quite feel like we know what we’re doing. Regardless, they grow up, move away, and are who they are. Most of them turn out to be pretty good people, despite the imperfect parenting they received.

I heard this on the tractor radio. Danish theologian Soren Kirkegaard wrote, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” We all know the feeling of “If I knew then what I know now, I would have done things differently.” But we don’t, and so we can’t. We can only forge ahead in our marriage, parenting, jobs, etc.

I guess the ultimate do-over would come if one believed in reincarnation. That’s quite a concept, that we learn and grow in this life, and then get to come back and push further down a path toward enlightenment. It’s interesting that reincarnation is part of the belief system of many fellow human beings, a tenet of Hinduism and Buddhism among others.

Reincarnation is not part of our tradition although there were references to it in some early Christian writing. I want to be respectful of other religions practiced by millions of people. But I admit I’ve joked about coming back as a bug or maybe a tree. If I’m a corn plant, I hope eight inches of rain doesn’t fall on me.

Each of us does get one type of second chance. I’m speaking of each new day. We wake up, and here in the morning light is a chance to do it all again. Maybe we said something not quite right to our spouse yesterday, but today we can try to rectify that. Maybe we didn’t put enough effort into a task yesterday, and today we can push a little harder.

Tuesday isn’t exactly a do-over for Monday, and Wednesday isn’t exactly a do-over for Tuesday. But each day is a chance to do something better, even if it’s only one small thing. We say often that each day is a gift. It’s a new gift, too. We can maybe amend something or straighten out some mess with this new day.

Or maybe just drive up and down corn rows. Again.

— Randy Krzmarzick farms on the home place west of Sleepy Eye, where he lives with his wife, Pam.