Unsettled

Everything’s unsettled, been that way the last couple/three days: Frieda’s stomach, whole being for that matter; the weather boiling in repeated cycling cycles slowly circling eastward over a wide range of the continent; and my inability to out guess the elements to make more accurate beneficial use of my time. Summer’s so short as it is and this year’s wet weather while it is exceptionally helpful stimulating the growth of life sustaining crops, the exceptionally wet weather is also an un-time-able occurrence hindering the useful harvest these crops. Problems galore plague this body unwilling to slowly fad away obscured under the tell tail vintages of age telling graying hairs, smokes, thickening slower acting gray maters slowen thinking and reactions piled over under weakening clouds of old age.
Then add to this dissertations these questions and ignoring. Why must aging be debilitating? Why must the individual mental storehouses be ignored by the young who could learn so much slow much quicker from these age vessels of mistakes once made and corrected. Why are these mind contained body‘s so ignored for the stories and lessons we could relate of life’s truths, ways, and means wasted in ignore-action? Where has the helpful respect for the slower aged be ignored-avoided by the young who could easily gleem so much useful knowledge from an open book rather than an un questioning hard covered book. Hereabouts thought the populace the old minds linger in unused useless gathering cobwebs mistakenly ignored/mis-thinking the old are useless upon the simple reflections of worn tiring bodied men and women.
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Weather wise we seem to have a great big low pressure system several miles across just a going in circles with in itself. Every time it turns around it seems to be getting us extra wet with its every passing over us.
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I swear I think the whole of the Shorthorn country troops, old and new, stay awake nights just a thinking up stuff to either keep me busy fixing or re-fixing it whatever they may dream up at any one or more times.
Push come to shove, the last bit of genius, while changing a tire for drag, I had asked Shane if the tire was clean on the inside and ready for use. He assured me it was. I took his word for it. This tire the bead a bit beat up it was bad enough it’d never seal used in a tubeless mode. Neither was the rim in any better shape more than used enough with a tube type tire. Checking the shelf had on hand just the inner tube needed. So I put it together. That was a job especially with 36” tyre irons While their length makes then real handy leverage wise. Let one of them slip and slapping a body up-a-side the head is a real attention getter. So it was I commenced to air up the new inner tube in a freshly mounted tire. I thought the job going well until suddenly just as the sidewall were abut to fill out and the compressed air was about to set the bead….Spisssssh….I had more air coming out around the valve stem than I was putting inside the tire. Disgusted I set the whole non goodly messed up something or other aside. It was a good time to quit and work on this tire fixing another day.
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This morning I took on the second repair for a second flat tire on the 1st same rim with all the zeal I was going to get it right today. Opps, The tire fixing was second my activity right after I had checked all the fences first. They were alright for being wet. As for the tire once I got into it, prying my….never mind, I’ll not go that vocabulary way inept of the fact I wanted to spit some of the tire studs outlawed back in the ‘70’s. Regardless my manors, prying away with those tire irons just to get at removing the inner tube it crossed my mind I was glad we had one healthy supply of tire patches and cement. Leave it to me to muck it up, for I had thought I’d pinched the inner tub with a tire iron putting the whole thing together. Removing the valve stem was just as difficult coming out as it was going in. The tube out, aired up, I found I hadn’t pinched it. Hooray for my side. But what was letting it collapse? A moments pass and my fingers felt a draft. I had found the hole. An un-pinched hole. No tire iron had done this damage. The tube hadn’t come pre-holed either. I ran my hand around the inside the tire. Ouch, I found it. The tire had taken into its tread a once upon a time an ultra fine all purpose wood screw. Nut’s only yesterday somebody else looking this very tire over had told me it was clean and ready to go. Hmmm, so much for not checking the tire for myself. Well there it was. An all to dig it scarcely high enough I got a long handle pair of nippers on it pulling it out. Meanwhile, the inner tube had been well scratched earlier, cemented, and set aside to dry. It was the moment of truth. I applied it over the hole and diligently rolled the wheeled stitcher hard over the patch both ways. When all was ready I wrestled that who knows why extra long valve stem again into the rim and tire. A bit more time with the same tire irons and an additional block of wood and walla I had it all together. Imagine my satisfaction when I applied air it all had come together as I had wanted it to the first time.
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Afternoon I shimmed a Vermeer 605 relief valve. Ready to go again I parked it out of the way. Changed wheel on drag, put it back into its farmyard slot. Went over the hill and found my choice replacement tire for a hay wagon’s bum tire replacement. Any trouble with this tire fix I’ve still got Mr Rogers front tractor tire. Home, that new tire needin’ hay wagon awaits tire change and use or is it use and then tire change.
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My rattlers taken the wagon in use I picked up a near dozen tubs full of grass what I should have been gotten two days ago. Well, when I feed them out tomorrow the ladies shall either find what good there’s in them or it’ll all make hummus. It’s a win-win either way or some of both. And not to be disappointed its raining again on top the 2” we’ve already gotten. When the sun shines again there be no blade of grass standing safe from my mowing machine. (grin) A tractor’s standing in one field to finish. I’ve got one field out back broken in ready for the fast mow. And, there’s another field I had gotten stuck in on Dodge road to go back to. This ain’t mentioning the two alfalfa fields, plus about thirty or more six miles away satellite field I should be able to bury at least three tractors in. Now that we’ve gotten all this week’s rain providing all the seed hasn’t drowned we’ll have a couple stands of Sudex to mow, bale and wrap by 1st week of August.
I can tell it like it is, Farming is so cussed exciting I can spit right back at all this rain if I don’t drown first. As for domestic duty around here, I’ve had it. It’s nada! I’m gonna sit by and try ignoring all the arthritis’s who’s names I’ve forgotten; while, I keep punchin’em where they hurt.
“Rainbows.”
Fernan