Wednesday afternoon I called a fellow farmer and we talked about how cool it was to work the dirt. I had just finished turning the soil in Bamm Bamm and was on my way to pick up a bed maker to build next springs beds.
With a borrowed tractor and a borrowed bed maker I ALMOST got the field turned and beds made in a day and a half. But when things work this easy and your an organic farmer, you should duck quickly or maybe buy a lotto ticket because it seems to rarely last for long.
While turning around the front tires punched through a rut and I found out quickly that the 4wd for this guy was not working. I decided to call it a day and put a trickle charger on MY tractor with hopes of using it to pull this one out Thursday.
Thursday morning when Rose called to tell me that Wilma had lost her skin I thought to myself...what? really? I will check this out myself when I get there in a few minutes.
Well it seems that untreated 2x6's will last about 4 years before rotting to the point where they don't hold down the hoops.
Fred's doors were no match for 50+mph gusts.
Neither was the poly in bay#7.
The good news is while it will cost man hours to repair, it CAN be repaired and the crops are all OK.
At the end of the day I was welcomed home by Molly's beagle bugle but not a certain yellow lab named Samson. I gave the house a cursory search and called out in the back yard and thought well he is probably visiting Amanda & Claire. The wind had blown open the side door that morning so the dog's already had one adventure and fear started to enter the equation . But it's usually Molly who is AWOL and Samson the one who NEVER leaves. I remembered a speech about never challenging the universe to one up itself with bad news. I thought as I searched with more focus, no, he is with Claire & Amanda for a visit. I called & sent text to Amanda, Clair & Vickie asking if they had Samson.
When I received a NO from Amanda and was on the phone with the pound driving around the neighbor hood my heart started to sink. I just knew he was dead on the side of the road or that someone stole him (if you offered him a tennis ball he would be yours forever) or something horrible.
When I got back home I searched the house again and called out his name. I thought I heard a whimper and called again but did not hear it. I walked back to the bedroom and called again and sure enough heard his half bark/half whine whimper from the basement. The basement door must have blown open and closed on him when he decided to check it out.
Well after getting the tractor stuck, Wilma loosing her skin and Fred loosing his doors and a few bays of poly finding out that Samson was not dead in a ditch, stolen or lost brought a much needed perspective.
Big fat smile on my face.