Here is the catch-up post I promised about what has been happening on our farm since wheat harvest ended.
My Farmer spent several days in this souped-up rig, planting short-season soybeans (that means it takes less days for them to reach maturity) into some of the wheat stubble.
He ran very long hours – hoping to get all the beans in the ground before a chance of rain. Once the rain came (thankfully), we went on a family outing My Farmer refers to as “Land Looking.”
On a land looking venture, one drives about, examining one’s own crops, critiquing neighbor’s crops, checking rain gauges, carry (how firm the ground is), and weeds.
We had an unpleasant surprise on one of our sojourns:
And so began the tire-changing ritual that all rural dwellers come to know well.
Cowgirl and her buddy went for a walk.
“Hey buddy, we have a flat tire. Do you want to help change it?”
He answers, without even looking up from the book and I swear while he is still reading, “No thanks. I’m sure my brother can handle it.”
In other, unrelated news, I’ve been trying to do some cleaning in
THE PIT OF DISPAIR
(the basement storage room).
Look what we found:
And who knows why, but they were extremely good for brotherly bonding. They asked to read a book together before bedtime. This is how I found them (in my bed) an hour later.
Our farming tasks have become focused on cutting and baling hay, getting all the machinery ready for corn harvest (hoping to avoid a repeat of the first several days of wheat harvest) and keeping the weeds at bay.
So tell me, where is the weirdest place you have ever had a flat tire?