Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I knew…

….there was more I wanted to write about. Nothing world shattering. Nothing that’d have anything to do with solving any the worlds problems. Not that I mentioned this maybe I’ve three things to talk about if I may remember what they are long enough?
Fistly: I enjoyed some wildlife scenes. Really, putting in tractor time, the kind I don’t have to keep a constant eye on what the implement in tow is doing nor where it was that closely negotiated I enjoyed some the scenes going on around me. Had a lone hen turkey more or less trot a diagonal line across the field ahead of me like she owned it.
Saw two deer. The first one (a doe) jumped out of the brushy edge of the field. Startled seeing me she did a hundred and eighty degree turn and darted right back where she had come from. The second deer (another doe) a bit later coming out of similar brush just sort of sauntered across the field paying no mind me nor my machine sharing the same field.
Lastly I saw a coyote. They’s one of the funniest conceived varmints if ever one so contrived just showing if there is a God he has an unimaginable sense of humor. This dummy looked as though it didn’t know for sure either where it was going or looking back acted like it was being followed. It must have changed direction a half dozen times to looking both ways over its shoulders. (I had to laugh in spite of myself.) A coyote doesn’t need a cartoon road runner companion to be entertaining.
Succonly: I spilled my emotional misgivings to Doc. And he listened with an nonjudgmental open mind. I told him I had blown up at my Brother an unwarranted verbal attack. I told him a particular wife of mind hadn’t even washed a dish over the last couple weeks, and we were eating off paper plates. Lastly between the weather’s instability doing its best spoiling my attempts at plantings and harvestings, I was spinning out.
I also explained my falling off the non-smoken wagon, not full scaled mind you, yet using a pack lasting me a week, but falling off just the same for the calming nicotine fixes I needed to cope.
He knows me well enough I not be telling him an untruth. It’s surprisingly how well he knows his patients. I know (overheard) of another really extraordinary example I can’t write about, as it is non of my business. Still knows us!
Thudly: Doc renewed an old prescription, Wellbutrin. This is about as strong a mind altering drug I hope I’ll ever need to stay on an ever calmed even keel. It’ll likely take a couple weeks to work its magic calming me out so’s I may easily quit the evil smoking again. Those coffin nails aren’t doing either my throat nor lungs a bit of good.
Fortith: I’m out of here even earlier than the usual kicking the proverbial time clock in the shins to wake it up. Putting a hurting on it is already making me feel better until I’ve brought home my belated meds. Now that I have spilled my innards I’m maybe feeling better.
Fiftly: My wearing, miserably wearing, gloves out in the sun, the backs of my hands (all both of them) itch something fierce. Asking Her Mostess what I may do with them she suggests trying some the lotions sitting on the shelves in the throne-room. Only thought I have to that, while I can’t stand the gloves, I spend all my day’s shop time washing them. How’ll I ever take to and stand some preconceived greasy lotion smeared upon myself, this’ll be a new trial to over come.
Having repeatedly had had a calling some years back and giving it up ‘cause all the good corners had already been taken I still get in a little out of the usual spiritualizing upon special occasions liking putting to rest saddened person’s critter.
I was please as punch when she rolled into the hole into a resting position. Looking so natural made it a mite easier back-filling the excavation.
I not only was paid well for my services, I was even treated to lunch. It wasn’t a bad morning’s mourning.
Back at the shop I straightened the hay rake’s one bent rail. Replace some original equipment IH fingers with JD. The JD’s bent at a mite different worked well fitting in with the machines operation. I had them whirling around where the IH parts refused to go.
Been thinking (oh oh) we’ve got a extra large caster wheel somewhere that I may just be able to build into this tired old IH hat rake. An extra wheel strategically placed and supported between the right rear machines wheel and the rotating basket just might help with the implements well being I I cane eliminated some of those bottoming out the poor machine experiences hitting (falling in/through) hidden holes or dead furrows has been a many the rails more than once. An extra wheel may just be what this machine needs. And a big PLUS, I think may just the wheel and materials without an out lay to use up some junk what’s laid around on the farm for to long.
One of life's little rewards are those what may have had something useful made and working out of basically nothing. (he he)
Speeding on along, The rake fixed, the tractor gassed I headed it for home. Having eatened I went straight to raking the Duck Pond Hay mown field. It was just as I had figured still wet. All the tires rolled up almost everywhere they rolled wet, The hay needed moving off the wet earth under it to the dry ground beside the mown windrows. When I finished my time was short. I had forty minutes to get back down the shop road. Luckily Terry home he shuttled me. The Cushman under me I hit the road, back roads most the way to Otisville. I made the auto parts store with three minutes to spare. There traded in a disastrous looking core and some hard earned cash and walked out with what looked like a brand-spanking-new rebuilt starter. Ugly’s going to go again.
Moving on had a couple close calls, The Cushman’s brakes had suddenly become sub standard. Curses, Have got to move it into shop for a chain-fall hoisting and take up then lazy brakes again. (sheesh!) making it to the drugstore unscathed I picked up bags and bags of drugs for Frieda and myself. From there headed home the long way around the block. Wanted to check out a couple fields, one for a single season’s haying, another for worken and planting.
By the time I got home I was an hour rattler chugging late. Took them anyway. Checked fuel in 1855 Schultz Ollie and headed out for a right and left turn to mow me a field. Whooppee. Oops here come the image of doom. Bro’ come rolling along stopping me. I had said, “I’m going to mow a field whitest I got the chance.” He says, “It might rain.” That is about the extent of my brother’s vocabulary every hay season as long as I’ve known him. (negative waves, really) Well,as it turned out, I turned in, made about a hundred or so feet and burried the tractor and rotary-conditioner. Nuts!
I was back home before 8:00 PM. We’ll use the 4-180 White to retrieve the 1850 mower combo out of that soggy hay-field come morning. Guess, just guess who’s gonna be happy to get back to his own water holes if we’re lucky tomorrow.

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