Howdy from the country. Not much happening out here these days. We've been sitting here on the porch watching the little birds chase the crows while we were waiting for some excitement and adventure. I should buy some more machinery.
Machinery has a way of making a boring day into a day of excitement and high adventure. There is nothing quite like a hydraulic hose breaking and spraying everything in sight with hot hydraulic fluid while you watch dollar signs float off into space.
A mower conditioner that comes loose on a tight corner is also a great adventure. It falls off the tractor and begins to destroy hoses, kink pipes and spray hot hydraulic fluid up and down your back, while you dance around trying to jam down the clutch, slam on the brakes and get the PTO shut off. That is only the beginning of a fun day of digging out, jacking up, unhooking, running to town for a multitude of parts, and putting it all back together again in somewhat of an imitation of the original product. Then you still have to buy more hydraulic fluid and finish cutting the rest of the hayfield (if there hasn’t been a rainstorm in the middle of all this).
An old tractor is a malevolent piece of machinery that can also cause great messadventures. My tractor has several malfunctions I believe it can turn on and off at will. Usually this happens with fifteen bales of hay left to pick up and a lightning and thunderstorm on its way to visit. The Tractor will just up and quit. This “up and quit” has a multitude of possible causes: Is it out of gas? Is it the wiring problem that I haven’t had the time (or money) to fix since the last time it just up and quit? Or maybe it is the carburetor problem? How about the battery?
The cure for these problems is to use the cell phone to call the wife and send her for gas, jiggle the wiring, take off and reinstall the battery cables and tap on the carburetor. I know the real cure is to stand back and throw money at it (while the mechanic works on it) but then what would we do for excitement? That and because I don’t have any extra money to throw at it is why I am willing to put up with a few ideosyncracies, (some of which belong to the tractor).
If the tractor itself can’t come up with something to slow down progress it will help another piece of machinery do it. The Baler has been known to play several little tricks in conjunction with The Tractor. There is a little bolt that ties the flywheel to the plunger arm that is made to break away if there is too much pressure in the feeding of the hay. On an older baler the flywheel bearing is usually a little worn and one good bang can usually break the bolt. It is hard to know just how much to tighten the bolt.
The main trick of The Baler, though, is to stop tying hay bales. The most complicated piece of machinery on earth is the knotter on an old baler. How does that thing work, anyway? I'll be rolling along in 3rd gear with the baler thumping and banging and look back and see these long green worms lying in place of the bales I am supposed to be making.
STOP!
Go back and see if there is enough string. Check to see if you can tie the bale that is in the channel right now, check to see if the string got wound the wrong way in the knotter. Cut any string out of place and bale some more. Check to see if you can tie that bale. Dink with knotter some more and go bale some more. See if you can tie that bale. Repeat the process about seven times and then go get the neighbor and see if he can figure out what is wrong. One day a spring was missing. Where did it go? I assume little green men ran off with it. It is a John Deere, you know.
By now you must get the picture. Even though life out here in the country is so gentle, laid back and simple - It has its moments of intense fear and doubt besides sheer terror and the experience of seeing hundred dollar bills flying away faster than a hayfield can manufacture them (which isn't very fast.)
Other than that, its been quiet as we sit here waiting for the next exciting frost........
Friday, September 24, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wildlife April, 2009
Grandpa’s Farm
The newsletter that focuses on the easygoing, calm, quiet life in the country. Simple tales of laid back country living here in Ho-Hum County. March, 2009
Well, as usual, not much has been going on out here in the country. We’ve been sitting here drinking coffee and watching the horses lose their winter coats. We are also admiring the wildlife that keeps showing up close by.
We live in a river valley with high hills starting right off the edge of the valley floor. The valley has orchards, vineyards, hayfields (some of which are ours), little towns and peace and quiet. (That’s why we call it “the country” as opposed to “THE CITY” which has telephone pole orchards, parking lot fields, traffic jams and slums, not to mention noise pollution).
We are owned and managed by a hayfield and we live next to an orchard on one side and a vineyard and winery on the other. When our neighbor gets done squeezing the grapes he dumps the pulp out behind our house. It’s on his property but less than one hundred yards away from our backyard.
The pulp piles attract a lot of wildlife. So far this winter we have seen pheasants, deer and turkeys (the latter are not the kids next door who also qualify as wildlife). There have been as many as thirty pheasants scratching through the piles all at the same time. We have also seen as many as twelve wild turkeys. They come down and chase the pheasants away just to keep things moving out here in the quiet, peaceful wilderness.
When the pulp is dumped it is just good old grape pulp and not fermented. However, being in a pile sometimes generates heat, or maybe it is just the sunshine, but at times the pile will ferment and take the wildlife by surprise. One of our neighbors was on the way home from work one day when two pheasants flew across the road in front of him. One of them ran into the deer fence and rung its neck. Not being one to look a gift pheasant in the eye (he figured he had fired enough shot gun shells at them so he was entitled to a free one) he picked it up and took it home. As he was skinning it he noticed this strange smell and figured that the pheasant had received his just reward for "flying under the influence". (I don’t know if pheasants have designated flyers or not. They probably need designated walkers.)
Sometimes we have seen as many as twelve whitetail deer at the piles in the daytime and who knows how many at night? I guess our dog, Lady, knows how many are out at night because she personally barks at each one several times. I suppose she thinks she is protecting us from them.
One night she tried to protect us from a skunk and she got just a whiff on her (a whiff lasts about three dry days and about six to ten wet days). We have a black and white cat that used to come up to rub on Lady and they were good friends. Not after the skunk incident! I think Lady saw the black and white and she thinks that it was the cat that whiffed her. She will not allow that cat in her backyard kingdom anymore. She hasn’t gotten whiffed again either, but some mornings (or mournings?) I wonder how she missed it because I can sure smell skunk outside.
We have several hayfields and some apple and cherry orchards close by. The hayfields have attracted several flocks of geese lately. You can hear them honking half the morning but usually one of the wolves (the neighbors call them watchdogs) hears them honking and comes out to tell them to turn the horns off. They get insulted and fly off in a huff (or whatever it is that you call a group of gooses).
The orchards have owls, hawks and cats that patrol them. It is a great thing because the mice can get out of hand in such places. Just as rats inhabit large cities, mice inhabit orchards. They also like to inhabit hay barns and houses. That’s why we have cats.
Quite a few of our cats contribute to “wild life” in this area. I have had a running battle with a big old Siamese Tomcat all winter because he comes in and terrorizes my barn cats. Maybe that is another reason why we have dogs.
We live close to a small lake and a river, too. There are osprey and eagles that patrol these areas. Osprey are fun to watch. When they catch a fish they hold it in line with their body as they fly. I have tried to take pictures of this but can’t convince the birds to hold still long enough. Eagles fly over quite often but they won’t hold still for a picture either.
Our valley is irrigated or it would be a desert, so in the unirrigated hills close by we have coyotes that show up to entertain Lady when the deer are busy elsewhere. One day we were watching the pulp piles and two coyotes came strolling out of the sagebrush and through the deer fence (which is broken down) looking like they were going to take over the piles. Lady took offense to their gangster attitude and barked them back up the hillside. Lady may not be able to get out of the yard but she has a lot of control over the pulp pile area. (The deer know she can’t get out so they just ignore her.)
The other wildlife we see are the small birds that hang out around our feeders. In winter they are mostly sparrows and juncos but just this week the goldfinches have come. We got our thistle seed out right away because if we don’t they will sometimes come to the kitchen window and lodge a complaint. Last year we had a pair of tree swallows and a pair of bluebirds nest in our bluebird houses and we are anxious to see if they come back this year.
The other bird we get plenty of are hummingbirds. Talk about coming to the window to complain - they will dive bomb you if you step outside without a refill for the hummingbird feeders. They are fun to watch and sometimes eleven or twelve will come in at the same time and play chase and fight over the feeders. Sometimes their antics are just plain funny.
Well, now you know about the wildlife close to Grandpa’s Farm. I just wish something interesting would happen around here once in a while. Now I better get out and get something done or that grandma will be after me with her broom. Talk about wildlife.....
The newsletter that focuses on the easygoing, calm, quiet life in the country. Simple tales of laid back country living here in Ho-Hum County. March, 2009
Well, as usual, not much has been going on out here in the country. We’ve been sitting here drinking coffee and watching the horses lose their winter coats. We are also admiring the wildlife that keeps showing up close by.
We live in a river valley with high hills starting right off the edge of the valley floor. The valley has orchards, vineyards, hayfields (some of which are ours), little towns and peace and quiet. (That’s why we call it “the country” as opposed to “THE CITY” which has telephone pole orchards, parking lot fields, traffic jams and slums, not to mention noise pollution).
We are owned and managed by a hayfield and we live next to an orchard on one side and a vineyard and winery on the other. When our neighbor gets done squeezing the grapes he dumps the pulp out behind our house. It’s on his property but less than one hundred yards away from our backyard.
The pulp piles attract a lot of wildlife. So far this winter we have seen pheasants, deer and turkeys (the latter are not the kids next door who also qualify as wildlife). There have been as many as thirty pheasants scratching through the piles all at the same time. We have also seen as many as twelve wild turkeys. They come down and chase the pheasants away just to keep things moving out here in the quiet, peaceful wilderness.
When the pulp is dumped it is just good old grape pulp and not fermented. However, being in a pile sometimes generates heat, or maybe it is just the sunshine, but at times the pile will ferment and take the wildlife by surprise. One of our neighbors was on the way home from work one day when two pheasants flew across the road in front of him. One of them ran into the deer fence and rung its neck. Not being one to look a gift pheasant in the eye (he figured he had fired enough shot gun shells at them so he was entitled to a free one) he picked it up and took it home. As he was skinning it he noticed this strange smell and figured that the pheasant had received his just reward for "flying under the influence". (I don’t know if pheasants have designated flyers or not. They probably need designated walkers.)
Sometimes we have seen as many as twelve whitetail deer at the piles in the daytime and who knows how many at night? I guess our dog, Lady, knows how many are out at night because she personally barks at each one several times. I suppose she thinks she is protecting us from them.
One night she tried to protect us from a skunk and she got just a whiff on her (a whiff lasts about three dry days and about six to ten wet days). We have a black and white cat that used to come up to rub on Lady and they were good friends. Not after the skunk incident! I think Lady saw the black and white and she thinks that it was the cat that whiffed her. She will not allow that cat in her backyard kingdom anymore. She hasn’t gotten whiffed again either, but some mornings (or mournings?) I wonder how she missed it because I can sure smell skunk outside.
We have several hayfields and some apple and cherry orchards close by. The hayfields have attracted several flocks of geese lately. You can hear them honking half the morning but usually one of the wolves (the neighbors call them watchdogs) hears them honking and comes out to tell them to turn the horns off. They get insulted and fly off in a huff (or whatever it is that you call a group of gooses).
The orchards have owls, hawks and cats that patrol them. It is a great thing because the mice can get out of hand in such places. Just as rats inhabit large cities, mice inhabit orchards. They also like to inhabit hay barns and houses. That’s why we have cats.
Quite a few of our cats contribute to “wild life” in this area. I have had a running battle with a big old Siamese Tomcat all winter because he comes in and terrorizes my barn cats. Maybe that is another reason why we have dogs.
We live close to a small lake and a river, too. There are osprey and eagles that patrol these areas. Osprey are fun to watch. When they catch a fish they hold it in line with their body as they fly. I have tried to take pictures of this but can’t convince the birds to hold still long enough. Eagles fly over quite often but they won’t hold still for a picture either.
Our valley is irrigated or it would be a desert, so in the unirrigated hills close by we have coyotes that show up to entertain Lady when the deer are busy elsewhere. One day we were watching the pulp piles and two coyotes came strolling out of the sagebrush and through the deer fence (which is broken down) looking like they were going to take over the piles. Lady took offense to their gangster attitude and barked them back up the hillside. Lady may not be able to get out of the yard but she has a lot of control over the pulp pile area. (The deer know she can’t get out so they just ignore her.)
The other wildlife we see are the small birds that hang out around our feeders. In winter they are mostly sparrows and juncos but just this week the goldfinches have come. We got our thistle seed out right away because if we don’t they will sometimes come to the kitchen window and lodge a complaint. Last year we had a pair of tree swallows and a pair of bluebirds nest in our bluebird houses and we are anxious to see if they come back this year.
The other bird we get plenty of are hummingbirds. Talk about coming to the window to complain - they will dive bomb you if you step outside without a refill for the hummingbird feeders. They are fun to watch and sometimes eleven or twelve will come in at the same time and play chase and fight over the feeders. Sometimes their antics are just plain funny.
Well, now you know about the wildlife close to Grandpa’s Farm. I just wish something interesting would happen around here once in a while. Now I better get out and get something done or that grandma will be after me with her broom. Talk about wildlife.....
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Cure For Boredom
As usual, there hasn’t been much happening here. We’ve been sitting here watching the dog sleep. Sometimes I try to liven up things a little bit by scratching my ear or taking off my shoe. I like it laid back like this out here in the country.
Like the other day. I was going to cut some hay. Before I could do that, though, I had to get the oil changed in the tractor. Before I could do that I had to change irrigation water in the lower field and before that I had to fix the flat tire on the four-wheeler. Then I needed to grease the old mower/conditioner and add some hydraulic fluid so it could leak some more out on the ground. This kind of sequence of events could easily disrupt the normal, easygoing, laid back routine of country living if it was allowed to but since nothing exciting ever happens out here in the country we just take it in stride. It will all get done in good time. There are a limited number of hours in the day though, and when most of that limited number is spent working in town the number of limited hours is even more limited. At least the “before that” activities keep it from getting more boring.
Have you ever noticed that in order to be bored you have to have the time to think about it? If you are busy (or, should I say - actively engaged?) you can’t be bored because you don’t have time to think about it. I am so rarely bored that if I did happen to have an attack of boredom I wouldn’t recognize it.
“Boy, I feel funny. There just isn’t anything to do around here. Wonder what the problem is?”
My wife would say, “Hey, if you don’t have anything to do I have a few things you could work on.”
Out would come a big yellow pad with three columns of “honey – do” items listed on it.
Did you realize that the cure for all boredom is a list? If you go to a female doctor and tell her you’re depressed because life is so boring, she’ll just hand you a prescription on a yellow pad with three columns of work items on it and say “Here, take two of these, three times a day for two weeks and you’ll be cured.”
I’ll just say, “I can see you’ve been talking to my wife. Sorry – the horses just got out, I have to change the irrigation water, the tractor needs the oil changed, the 4 wheeler has a flat tire and I have to cut hay – I am cured already!”
I don’t think the real problem is being bored. Here at Grandpa’s Farm there is always something that needs to be done. The problem is that for certain things I’m just not “in the mood” to do them. I love to cut and bale hay. There is a wonderful silence in the middle of the tractor roaring and the machinery clattering. I think that it has to do with rhythms of movement. There is just a correct and soothing rhythm of movement when a tractor is running and a baler is pounding that allows your worries and cares to ooze away so that when you are done you just want to sit and rest.
Since there is no soothing rhythm of movement to picking up baled hay it is hard to get “in the mood” to pick it up.
God knows that! It seems like every time I get the hay baled He whomps up a big thunderstorm to get me “in the mood” to pick up hay.
It works, too. Many times I have just made it in the barn door with the last load just as it starts to rain. Then there is a big clap of thunder and a voice comes out of the clouds and says, “I knew you could do it with just a little encouragement!” What I really dislike is the amused chuckling that goes on afterward. And I intend to tell him so, too!
So, to keep a short story short, I’m sorry I got your hopes up that something exciting might be happening out here in the country. If you like quiet, laid back days, same old routine day in and day out, and a slow pace of living I’d recommend you plan to move out to a nice little farm and get started. That’s why I live here. I like the peace and quiet and every day the same out here in Ho Hum County. Keeps the blood pressure low.
Just be sure to get an old tractor and old machinery, an old 4 wheeler, old horses, dogs, cats and chickens, and a big hay field so you don’t get too bored (besides that, the mechanic, vet, horse shoer, tire store and parts houses all need to make a living, too). For a small fee I would consider working as a consultant. I seem to have a knack for locating those kinds of items and I would appreciate your help in supporting the above mentioned businesses.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Bloodletting Ceremony
September, 2010
It's been a usual type of day here at Grandpas' Farm. We have just been sitting here admiring the fog rising off the river. I'm not always too fond of fog because it means the season's are about to change. It is almost football season which is ok, except that football always brings colder weather with it.
This evening we needed to go to the Small City to watch our grandson play football but as usual the sequence of events that needed to take place first got going in high gear early.
The first and worst of the events was what I call the Bloodletting Ceremony. For some reason before you can see the doctor you have to give some blood at the Clinic. I suspect that they sell it or something but it's a requirement. I was supposed to be there at 9:30 but I always go at 8:30 just in case they have some no-shows. I was supposed to be in the Small City by 9:30 to work on an apartment. I figured somebody wouldn't show so it would be no problem.
Yes, problem. Everyone and their cat was there to get their blood let. Must have been a hot market for blood. I was very patient and waited my turn, carefully noting who the nurse was taking the blood samples. It turned out to be a nurse I knew from past experience and I figured it was going to be a usual day of bloodletting but at least it would be fun.
My usual experience with blood letting is many pokes - not enough blood. I have sometimes been stuck four or five times before the proper amount could be withdrawn. They always blame it on my jeans but it doesn't matter which ones I wear it always seems to turn out the same. Then they have the audacity to blame it on my parent's jeans. I don't remember either of my parents ever wearing jeans. They were old timers who believed women wore dresses and men wore overalls and if you needed to bleed don't do it on the rug.
Getting poked with a blood letting needle is not my idea of a good time. I'm the guy that once cut my finger with a pocketknife trying to open a pop can, walked clear across the orchard to where the boss was, watched him wrap the finger and promptly passed out as I groped for the door handle of his pickup. I never watched those first aid movies of simulated accidents because my eyes were closed all the time. I wouldn't make a good EMT because there would be two patients to treat if there was blood involved.
Anyway, the nurse I got was a funny one I had had several times before. She usually took about three pokes to draw blood. That beats five any day but as we got started she struck out on number one.
Looks like a usual day (but I didn't look.)
She surprised me and got it on the second one. All the time she was doing this she was giving me a lot of banter about it and gave me several ideas for something to write about which in my usual style I promptly forgot. (Trauma erases memory just like gray hair does.) So, to make a short story long the highlight of my day was to get it over with in two pokes.
After that I was only fifteen minutes late to work which didn't matter because I am self employed. I cut a cabinet in half, helped the rug guy measure the apartment, helped decide to put vinyl in the kitchen and dining room and ripped out the kitchen floor so I could put in new underlayment for the vinyl. In between I washed the old dirty switch plate and outlet covers, vacuumed the floor in the kitchen and put the shelves and brackets back into the closets.
We made it to the football game early and the team lost to a smaller school but our grandson played a really good game. He's a big boy so played almost the whole game at tackle on offense and nose guard on defense or the other way around, whichever. It was fun to watch.
Sorry to not be able to relate that something interesting or exciting happened out here in the country. It was just a usual day with just a little more blood than usual. Wake me up if anything interesting comes along.
(I like it that way!!!)
It's been a usual type of day here at Grandpas' Farm. We have just been sitting here admiring the fog rising off the river. I'm not always too fond of fog because it means the season's are about to change. It is almost football season which is ok, except that football always brings colder weather with it.
This evening we needed to go to the Small City to watch our grandson play football but as usual the sequence of events that needed to take place first got going in high gear early.
The first and worst of the events was what I call the Bloodletting Ceremony. For some reason before you can see the doctor you have to give some blood at the Clinic. I suspect that they sell it or something but it's a requirement. I was supposed to be there at 9:30 but I always go at 8:30 just in case they have some no-shows. I was supposed to be in the Small City by 9:30 to work on an apartment. I figured somebody wouldn't show so it would be no problem.
Yes, problem. Everyone and their cat was there to get their blood let. Must have been a hot market for blood. I was very patient and waited my turn, carefully noting who the nurse was taking the blood samples. It turned out to be a nurse I knew from past experience and I figured it was going to be a usual day of bloodletting but at least it would be fun.
My usual experience with blood letting is many pokes - not enough blood. I have sometimes been stuck four or five times before the proper amount could be withdrawn. They always blame it on my jeans but it doesn't matter which ones I wear it always seems to turn out the same. Then they have the audacity to blame it on my parent's jeans. I don't remember either of my parents ever wearing jeans. They were old timers who believed women wore dresses and men wore overalls and if you needed to bleed don't do it on the rug.
Getting poked with a blood letting needle is not my idea of a good time. I'm the guy that once cut my finger with a pocketknife trying to open a pop can, walked clear across the orchard to where the boss was, watched him wrap the finger and promptly passed out as I groped for the door handle of his pickup. I never watched those first aid movies of simulated accidents because my eyes were closed all the time. I wouldn't make a good EMT because there would be two patients to treat if there was blood involved.
Anyway, the nurse I got was a funny one I had had several times before. She usually took about three pokes to draw blood. That beats five any day but as we got started she struck out on number one.
Looks like a usual day (but I didn't look.)
She surprised me and got it on the second one. All the time she was doing this she was giving me a lot of banter about it and gave me several ideas for something to write about which in my usual style I promptly forgot. (Trauma erases memory just like gray hair does.) So, to make a short story long the highlight of my day was to get it over with in two pokes.
After that I was only fifteen minutes late to work which didn't matter because I am self employed. I cut a cabinet in half, helped the rug guy measure the apartment, helped decide to put vinyl in the kitchen and dining room and ripped out the kitchen floor so I could put in new underlayment for the vinyl. In between I washed the old dirty switch plate and outlet covers, vacuumed the floor in the kitchen and put the shelves and brackets back into the closets.
We made it to the football game early and the team lost to a smaller school but our grandson played a really good game. He's a big boy so played almost the whole game at tackle on offense and nose guard on defense or the other way around, whichever. It was fun to watch.
Sorry to not be able to relate that something interesting or exciting happened out here in the country. It was just a usual day with just a little more blood than usual. Wake me up if anything interesting comes along.
(I like it that way!!!)
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Third Cutting - August 2010
It's been another exciting day at Grandpa's Farm. We've been sitting here watching the sun rise and welcoming in another ninety-five degree day. Makes a person just want to run out and sit in the shade or not.
We've just spent three evenings at the rodeo. There were horses, trick riding, rodeo Queens from all over the state and, of course, the clown.
The clown happens to be a local boy who went to college to become a teacher and somehow became a clown. (I did the same thing but kept my clowning in the classroom. I should have thought about being a rodeo clown?) It was fun to watch him run all over the arena, harass the pretty rodeo queens and just generally disrupt all the proceedings. (I would have been good at it. That last part was exactly how my classroom seemed to work.) There just isn't anything like a good rodeo, but we ain't going back tonight. I've had my fill for this year.
I'm trying to get my courage up to do my third cutting of hay. I need to start working on the old John Deere mower-conditioner (JDMC) so I can cut that alfalfa and grass that just keeps growing out there in my field. Due to a few ignominious turns and twists I managed to bang up the sheet metal that covers the belts and chains that drive the crazy thing so the covers have to be straightened and welded. Some person (female) insists that it is due to my lousy driving that this happened but who is going to listen to a person that spends two evenings stamping people's wrists at the rodeo and missing all the action - like the clown throwing a football completely out of the arena? Wrist stamping people are crazy. She says that she knows she is - that's why she married me. She needed someone to completely disorder her world.
Anyway - we are looking forward to the third cutting of hay just like the mechanic looks forward to me bringing in my old Ford pickup to work on. There is just no activity that has so many unknown exciting variables in it as cutting hay (except, possibly, doing mechanicing on old Ford pickups). The possibilities for something weird to happen are endless. I have come completely unhooked from the JDMC and broken all sorts of connectors, pipes and hoses on it. I have been known to blow hydraulic hoses and spew hydraulic fluid up and down my back and all around the hay field. I have broken irrigation valves and pipes and had geysers wetting down my new mown hay. I have torn up fences and hit trees and sprinkler risers not to mention running over wildlife and chopping up snakes. These are all normal minor incidents connected to cutting hay.
The abnormal activities connected to cutting hay are having hawks, crows, pheasants or gophers interfere with the process. Hawks and crows fly overhead looking for the critters that get mowed down. Sometimes I notice they are not there and look up to spot them sitting on a fence post eating. Pheasant chicks will allow themselves to be herded from one end of the field to the other until there is very little grass left standing. Then I have to stop mowing and hop off the tractor to chase them out of the grass so I can cut it. But the best part is when I jump off the tractor and try to stomp gophers. Ever try to stomp a gopher? They can really move when you get after them. So can I! My neighbors want to arrest me for obscene dancing on a hayfield.
So as you can see it is just another boring summer out here in the country. If you happen to see someone dancing around in a hay field just realize it is just another boring activity that old farmers do and keep on going. Pretend you didn't see it and that everything is just too unexciting to bother with.
(And I like it that way!)
We've just spent three evenings at the rodeo. There were horses, trick riding, rodeo Queens from all over the state and, of course, the clown.
The clown happens to be a local boy who went to college to become a teacher and somehow became a clown. (I did the same thing but kept my clowning in the classroom. I should have thought about being a rodeo clown?) It was fun to watch him run all over the arena, harass the pretty rodeo queens and just generally disrupt all the proceedings. (I would have been good at it. That last part was exactly how my classroom seemed to work.) There just isn't anything like a good rodeo, but we ain't going back tonight. I've had my fill for this year.
I'm trying to get my courage up to do my third cutting of hay. I need to start working on the old John Deere mower-conditioner (JDMC) so I can cut that alfalfa and grass that just keeps growing out there in my field. Due to a few ignominious turns and twists I managed to bang up the sheet metal that covers the belts and chains that drive the crazy thing so the covers have to be straightened and welded. Some person (female) insists that it is due to my lousy driving that this happened but who is going to listen to a person that spends two evenings stamping people's wrists at the rodeo and missing all the action - like the clown throwing a football completely out of the arena? Wrist stamping people are crazy. She says that she knows she is - that's why she married me. She needed someone to completely disorder her world.
Anyway - we are looking forward to the third cutting of hay just like the mechanic looks forward to me bringing in my old Ford pickup to work on. There is just no activity that has so many unknown exciting variables in it as cutting hay (except, possibly, doing mechanicing on old Ford pickups). The possibilities for something weird to happen are endless. I have come completely unhooked from the JDMC and broken all sorts of connectors, pipes and hoses on it. I have been known to blow hydraulic hoses and spew hydraulic fluid up and down my back and all around the hay field. I have broken irrigation valves and pipes and had geysers wetting down my new mown hay. I have torn up fences and hit trees and sprinkler risers not to mention running over wildlife and chopping up snakes. These are all normal minor incidents connected to cutting hay.
The abnormal activities connected to cutting hay are having hawks, crows, pheasants or gophers interfere with the process. Hawks and crows fly overhead looking for the critters that get mowed down. Sometimes I notice they are not there and look up to spot them sitting on a fence post eating. Pheasant chicks will allow themselves to be herded from one end of the field to the other until there is very little grass left standing. Then I have to stop mowing and hop off the tractor to chase them out of the grass so I can cut it. But the best part is when I jump off the tractor and try to stomp gophers. Ever try to stomp a gopher? They can really move when you get after them. So can I! My neighbors want to arrest me for obscene dancing on a hayfield.
So as you can see it is just another boring summer out here in the country. If you happen to see someone dancing around in a hay field just realize it is just another boring activity that old farmers do and keep on going. Pretend you didn't see it and that everything is just too unexciting to bother with.
(And I like it that way!)
Monday, September 6, 2010
How to Get Retired
Grandpas Farm
The news from Ho Hum County
How to Get Re-tired
As a small child growing up the thought of retirement never entered my mind. I knew my grandpa was retired but as I watched him mosey about from one little piddly task to another I never could figure out how he got tired or did enough to get re-tired.
I just naturally assumed that since he got up early and fed chickens, pulled a few weeds in the garden, talked to his neighbors, watched me mow the yard, and then took a nap after lunch, that the re-tired part must be the stuff he did after his nap. Only lots of times he took me fishing after his nap and what could be tiring about sitting on the bank of a pond with an eight year old? (Little did I know then.) I thought being retired might make a good occupation except it seemed a little dull unless you happened to catch a pretty good fish.
I asked my dad and he explained that my grandpa had retired from farming so I assumed that being retired meant that farming had made him tired and that getting up and piddling around every day was what made him re-tired. I thought that maybe he was only capable of piddling around a little every day and once in a while he saved himself up for a fishing excursion.
Then he got a part time job. He was the night watchman at the county shop from about six P M until eleven P M. I don’t know why the county felt the night needed to be watched. It must have been up to something. I was pretty worried that he might end up re-re-tired and that it might cause the loss of our fishing excursions. I immediately offered my services figuring that I could watch the night as good as any seventy year old man and that if I helped it would hopefully restore the highlight of my summer activities which was fishing with grandpa. My dad farmed all summer, working on his retirement, so he didn’t have time to take me fishing. He didn’t like to fish anyway.
After one night as assistant night watchman I realized there was nothing to worry about. We went in to the shop, turned on the yard lights and some shop lights and the radio and listened to The Lone Ranger and anything else that came on before ten o'clock when I usually fell asleep. It seemed like just so much more piddling around to me.
Time moved on. My dad finished his college degree and became a vocational agriculture and shop teacher. Then he became high school principal (still farming all this time). When he finished his doctorate we moved to Seattle, Washington. My grandpa passed away, my dad retired after farming, being a teacher and a college professor (but he still had the farm). I went to college, became a teacher and administrator and after 31 years retired.
Somehow, my retirement has never reached the piddling around stage. I think I have it figured out. My grandpa and my dad both started as farmers. I taught school first and then started farming. I think I only got tired from teaching and now I have to do the farming part until I get re-tired.
So, now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to send my wife to town for tractor parts, and then I’ll see if we can get this haying done. We should buy some chickens, plant more corn in the garden and build a bigger barn. Maybe I’ll get to the piddling around stage sooner that way. Hope it works. If it doesn't I'll just call up my grandson and go fishing.
The news from Ho Hum County
How to Get Re-tired
As a small child growing up the thought of retirement never entered my mind. I knew my grandpa was retired but as I watched him mosey about from one little piddly task to another I never could figure out how he got tired or did enough to get re-tired.
I just naturally assumed that since he got up early and fed chickens, pulled a few weeds in the garden, talked to his neighbors, watched me mow the yard, and then took a nap after lunch, that the re-tired part must be the stuff he did after his nap. Only lots of times he took me fishing after his nap and what could be tiring about sitting on the bank of a pond with an eight year old? (Little did I know then.) I thought being retired might make a good occupation except it seemed a little dull unless you happened to catch a pretty good fish.
I asked my dad and he explained that my grandpa had retired from farming so I assumed that being retired meant that farming had made him tired and that getting up and piddling around every day was what made him re-tired. I thought that maybe he was only capable of piddling around a little every day and once in a while he saved himself up for a fishing excursion.
Then he got a part time job. He was the night watchman at the county shop from about six P M until eleven P M. I don’t know why the county felt the night needed to be watched. It must have been up to something. I was pretty worried that he might end up re-re-tired and that it might cause the loss of our fishing excursions. I immediately offered my services figuring that I could watch the night as good as any seventy year old man and that if I helped it would hopefully restore the highlight of my summer activities which was fishing with grandpa. My dad farmed all summer, working on his retirement, so he didn’t have time to take me fishing. He didn’t like to fish anyway.
After one night as assistant night watchman I realized there was nothing to worry about. We went in to the shop, turned on the yard lights and some shop lights and the radio and listened to The Lone Ranger and anything else that came on before ten o'clock when I usually fell asleep. It seemed like just so much more piddling around to me.
Time moved on. My dad finished his college degree and became a vocational agriculture and shop teacher. Then he became high school principal (still farming all this time). When he finished his doctorate we moved to Seattle, Washington. My grandpa passed away, my dad retired after farming, being a teacher and a college professor (but he still had the farm). I went to college, became a teacher and administrator and after 31 years retired.
Somehow, my retirement has never reached the piddling around stage. I think I have it figured out. My grandpa and my dad both started as farmers. I taught school first and then started farming. I think I only got tired from teaching and now I have to do the farming part until I get re-tired.
So, now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to send my wife to town for tractor parts, and then I’ll see if we can get this haying done. We should buy some chickens, plant more corn in the garden and build a bigger barn. Maybe I’ll get to the piddling around stage sooner that way. Hope it works. If it doesn't I'll just call up my grandson and go fishing.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
August Showed Up
Life in the Country
Annals of Grandpa's Farm (retired)
Ho Hum County, State of Suspended Activity
August Showed Up
Not much happening out here in Ho Hum County right now. The third cutting of hay is off and gone so my mind has been wandering around looking for a place to light. We've been sitting here watching the dog begging to go out after he just went out five minutes ago. Does it have something to do with the goody he gets when he comes back in? Does he have us trained or what?
It is that time of year again when all the kiddies go back to school. The good teachers have already been back to school for several weeks or all month.
The reason I say that is because that's what Granny and I did. When August showed up my mind wandered around looking for a place to light and that place was usually in my classroom at school. I needed to go in and sit and look at the chalkboard, the class list, the books to be passed out and to play games on the computer besides starting a whole new list of e-mails. It was important to begin to get into the mood to go back to school.
It took about six weeks, after school was out for the summer, to begin to feel like a human being. That lasted for two weeks and then August showed up. Later in my career I became a principal and so I never got time to feel like a normal human being because I worked until the end of June, sometimes got July off (rarely) and then August would show up when I started again if I ever had stopped. August showing up sure messed up the whole summer.
Now, though, I am retired so August shows up in a different way. Usually the third cutting of hay shows up the first week or so of August. We also get a week or so of one hundred degree weather (and then fall shows up). The really good thing about August is that I can watch my former teachers go back to school. If some of them complain to me I just say' "Not my problem." It's a wonderful thing to be able to say that and then go on and do my own thing which consists of changing irrigation water and cutting and baling hay. Sometimes it also involves some construction or handyman activities.
Being retired is like becoming a "jack of all trades" ("master of none?). I do some handyman stuff one day, cut hay the next, do some more construction the next day, turn the hay on the next day and hope I can bale on the day after that. Then the hay has to be sold or stored in the barn or machine shed. If you plan to do hay I recommend that you have grandchildren that will come and pick it up for you. (How do you think it became Grandpa's Farm?) So far this summer I have had three cuttings of hay and my number one grandson and his girlfriend have picked up what we have had to stack or deliver. My number two grandson has also helped several times. Thanks, guys!
So as you can see it is just an easygoing, laid back life here in the summer in Ho Hum county. Nothing interesting or exciting ever happens here and never has.
And I like it that way.
Annals of Grandpa's Farm (retired)
Ho Hum County, State of Suspended Activity
August Showed Up
Not much happening out here in Ho Hum County right now. The third cutting of hay is off and gone so my mind has been wandering around looking for a place to light. We've been sitting here watching the dog begging to go out after he just went out five minutes ago. Does it have something to do with the goody he gets when he comes back in? Does he have us trained or what?
It is that time of year again when all the kiddies go back to school. The good teachers have already been back to school for several weeks or all month.
The reason I say that is because that's what Granny and I did. When August showed up my mind wandered around looking for a place to light and that place was usually in my classroom at school. I needed to go in and sit and look at the chalkboard, the class list, the books to be passed out and to play games on the computer besides starting a whole new list of e-mails. It was important to begin to get into the mood to go back to school.
It took about six weeks, after school was out for the summer, to begin to feel like a human being. That lasted for two weeks and then August showed up. Later in my career I became a principal and so I never got time to feel like a normal human being because I worked until the end of June, sometimes got July off (rarely) and then August would show up when I started again if I ever had stopped. August showing up sure messed up the whole summer.
Now, though, I am retired so August shows up in a different way. Usually the third cutting of hay shows up the first week or so of August. We also get a week or so of one hundred degree weather (and then fall shows up). The really good thing about August is that I can watch my former teachers go back to school. If some of them complain to me I just say' "Not my problem." It's a wonderful thing to be able to say that and then go on and do my own thing which consists of changing irrigation water and cutting and baling hay. Sometimes it also involves some construction or handyman activities.
Being retired is like becoming a "jack of all trades" ("master of none?). I do some handyman stuff one day, cut hay the next, do some more construction the next day, turn the hay on the next day and hope I can bale on the day after that. Then the hay has to be sold or stored in the barn or machine shed. If you plan to do hay I recommend that you have grandchildren that will come and pick it up for you. (How do you think it became Grandpa's Farm?) So far this summer I have had three cuttings of hay and my number one grandson and his girlfriend have picked up what we have had to stack or deliver. My number two grandson has also helped several times. Thanks, guys!
So as you can see it is just an easygoing, laid back life here in the summer in Ho Hum county. Nothing interesting or exciting ever happens here and never has.
And I like it that way.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Farming Curse
Grandpa's Farm: Life in the Country
The Farming Curse
Well, here we are back at the farm for another exciting week. We've just been sitting here listening to the hummingbirds dive bombing the cat. If we went out there they'd dive bomb us, too. They just got in from wherever they disappear to in the winter. Snow birds! Oh, well anything for a little excitement. Better get the sugar water out or they'll try to get into the house to get it.
I was just asked a very important question concerning the natural instincts of mankind as it is related to farming. The question was: "Why do you suppose that little boys always want to play in the dirt?"
I think this goes back to when God created the earth and made a man out of dirt. When he did that he instilled into little boys the natural tendency to mess around with the stuff they were created from. (I know it says dust in the Bible but dust is just rebellious dirt that has made itself so small that it blows away when the wind blows).
Little boys have been excited about dirt since time began. Adam was placed in God's Garden to take care of it so I would guess that God decided that since Adam was dirt to start with that he ought to be good at taking care of dirt. God created a farmer.
Now in God's Garden I would guess that Adam was having such a good time with dirt that God saw what a dirty mess he was. So God created Eve to help get Adam cleaned up. God probably didn't want to do that job himself so he delegated the task to Eve. Anyway, Eve woke Adam up, complained about what a mess he was and then she went off and tried to put his pet snake away while he cleaned up. Bad move! The snake had his own game to play and the end result was that the snake talked her into stealing forbidden fruit which she then shared with Adam. God placed a curse on Adam and made him be a farmer his whole life. Some men still are cursed in such a way, but all little boys still like to play in the dirt from Adam's bad example that turned into a hereditary trait. There is probably a dirt gene in the pool and some boys just never get away from it. You might say they have dirty genes (and definitely that they have dirty jeans, too).
I would guess that Adam became a pretty good farmer because he had a son, Cain, that was also a farmer. Cain was so excited about being a farmer that he thought God would appreciate his farming. He was wrong. The sacrifice to cover sin was an animal sacrifice not a potato sacrifice. Cain just couldn't believe that God wanted blood not water and you can't get blood from a turnip.
So, in conclusion, don't count your chickens before they hatch and don't count your potatoes before you dig them up because there are no bigger gamblers than farmers. If you weren't raised on a farm just stay in the city and enjoy your crowded conditions, traffic jams, concrete yards, nasty neighbors and stale air.
Come to think of it - who really has the curse?
Sorry to get you all excited that something might have happened out here in the country other than dive bombing hummingbirds. Just stay home and rest.
The Farming Curse
Well, here we are back at the farm for another exciting week. We've just been sitting here listening to the hummingbirds dive bombing the cat. If we went out there they'd dive bomb us, too. They just got in from wherever they disappear to in the winter. Snow birds! Oh, well anything for a little excitement. Better get the sugar water out or they'll try to get into the house to get it.
I was just asked a very important question concerning the natural instincts of mankind as it is related to farming. The question was: "Why do you suppose that little boys always want to play in the dirt?"
I think this goes back to when God created the earth and made a man out of dirt. When he did that he instilled into little boys the natural tendency to mess around with the stuff they were created from. (I know it says dust in the Bible but dust is just rebellious dirt that has made itself so small that it blows away when the wind blows).
Little boys have been excited about dirt since time began. Adam was placed in God's Garden to take care of it so I would guess that God decided that since Adam was dirt to start with that he ought to be good at taking care of dirt. God created a farmer.
Now in God's Garden I would guess that Adam was having such a good time with dirt that God saw what a dirty mess he was. So God created Eve to help get Adam cleaned up. God probably didn't want to do that job himself so he delegated the task to Eve. Anyway, Eve woke Adam up, complained about what a mess he was and then she went off and tried to put his pet snake away while he cleaned up. Bad move! The snake had his own game to play and the end result was that the snake talked her into stealing forbidden fruit which she then shared with Adam. God placed a curse on Adam and made him be a farmer his whole life. Some men still are cursed in such a way, but all little boys still like to play in the dirt from Adam's bad example that turned into a hereditary trait. There is probably a dirt gene in the pool and some boys just never get away from it. You might say they have dirty genes (and definitely that they have dirty jeans, too).
I would guess that Adam became a pretty good farmer because he had a son, Cain, that was also a farmer. Cain was so excited about being a farmer that he thought God would appreciate his farming. He was wrong. The sacrifice to cover sin was an animal sacrifice not a potato sacrifice. Cain just couldn't believe that God wanted blood not water and you can't get blood from a turnip.
So, in conclusion, don't count your chickens before they hatch and don't count your potatoes before you dig them up because there are no bigger gamblers than farmers. If you weren't raised on a farm just stay in the city and enjoy your crowded conditions, traffic jams, concrete yards, nasty neighbors and stale air.
Come to think of it - who really has the curse?
Sorry to get you all excited that something might have happened out here in the country other than dive bombing hummingbirds. Just stay home and rest.
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