Blog: Reflections from Rural Route 2

 

Saturday, September 09, 2006, 20:59

What a Difference

Two days ago, I was running around in shorts and a tank top and tennis shoes because it was 85 degrees and sticky and humid.

Today I am wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and workbooks because it is 62 degrees with a stiff wind out of the east/northeast. It's kind of cloudy today, although the sun has been managing to break through once in a while.

The cold front that came through was supposed to bring rain with it. But it didn't.

I wanted it to rain. I really did. We haven't gotten nearly enough rain to bring us out of the drought. Plus -- rain would have washed the ragweed pollen out of the air and then I would have felt pretty good for a day or two.

I'm getting tired of itchy eyes and a tongue that feels like I've been licking sandpaper and a throat that feels like I've been swallowing ground glass and ears that hurt and itch and burn. And this is in spite of taking three different kinds of antihistamines every day.

The horses know it is colder out than it has been, too. Last night when I went out to give more hay to the horses, Kajun came trotting into the barn for his hay. He hasn't trotted into the barn for hay since early last spring. He would much rather eat his hay outside when the weather is nice. But not last night. Last night, he wanted to get inside out of the cold wind.

Seeing as Kajun wanted his hay inside, I figured Isabelle would want her hay inside her shelter so she could also stand out of the wind. When I carried the hay over to her shelter, Isabelle was of the opinion I wasn't putting her hay down fast enough. She wheeled around and kicked at me with both hind feet. I wasn't surprised, though.Horses often feel more energetic when it is cooler outside.

"Isabelle," I told her, "guess what? If you kick me, NOBODY is going to bring you any hay."

Isabelle didn't seem too worried about it, though. She attacked her hay as if she hadn't seen anything to eat in days, rather than in just a few hours.

Only a little over a month ago, the temperature was 106 degrees. And now it is 62 degrees. Fall is on its way. A few days ago, I noticed a tinge of red in the hills north of the house. Since it has been so dry, I wonder if we are going to have much for color this year.

LeAnn R. Ralph

 

Friday, September 08, 2006, 20:37

A New Driveway

We got a new driveway last weekend.

Well, the driveway isn't new. It's the same old driveway. It's the stuff covering the driveway that's new.

Actually, the stuff covering the driveway is not new, either. It's from the big wooded hill on the farm where I grew up (the Bluff appears in all of my books).

And how did part of the Bluff end up on our driveway, you ask?

Well, it all started when my nephew and his wife built a new house last year. As my brother is fond of pointing out, it's the first new house that's been built on the farm in more than 100 years.

Anyway, after they excavated for the basement (and after they excavated for a driveway this summer) they ended up with a huge pile of crushed rock. My nephew's house is right at the edge of the Bluff. And the crushed rock is now sitting on the concrete platform where the barn used to be. (The barn burned down several years ago.)

It's not the highest grade of crushed rock in the world, but it will do. When it packs down, it will make a hard surface that will be better than the soft sand that was there before. And we're hoping it will take care of the soft, muddy spot that always appears in the spring right where my husband parks his truck. One year I very nearly had to get the 460 out to pull the UPS truck out of the mudhole. It was a substitute driver who didn't know any better. The regular driver *knows* not to come in our driveway in the spring!

I wish I had taken pictures while Randy and his friend were hauling in the crushed rock. There was a big flatbed trailer in the driveway. Randy was on one of the side of the trailer with the 460 Farmall, pushing the rock off the other side. Our friend was on the opposite side with his zippy little skid steer, pulling off the crushed rock.

At the time, though, I was too busy making sure I didn't get run over -- making sure Charlie didn't get run over -- making sure my flower bed didn't get run over -- and making sure my little lilac didn't get run over -- to go in the house for the digital camera. (The lilac, I'm sure, had the experience of its life passing before its eyes that afternoon, seeing as the drawbar of the tractor was pushing against the poor little thing and practically bending it over backwards. The lilac is only a couple of feet tall.)

At one point, I was afraid I would have some explaining to do with the insurance company, too. Randy pulled the flatbed forward. Our friend drove the skid steer out of the way. And it was my job to move the 460 around to the other side of the flatbed.

Things went fine until I got to the other side of the flatbed and decided that since I wasn't going far, I could just take the tractor out of gear and let it coast backward rather than putting the tractor in reverse. It was then that I fervently hoped the brakes the would hold because I started coasting faster than I thought I would. The wall of the house seemed awfully *close* awfully fast, if you know what I mean.

For a few seconds, I had a vivid mental picture of the tractor crashing into my office. But, the tractor stopped, and all was well.

We have talked about asking the township to haul in some crushed rock, but I would much rather have some of the Bluff on my driveway. It's more personal. After all, who knows where the township gets crushed rock?

LeAnn R. Ralph

  • Christmas in Dairyland,
  • Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam,
  • Cream of the Crop and
  • Preserve Your Family History -- A Step by Step Guide for Interviewing Family Members and Writing Oral Histories
  • COMING SOON: Where the Green Grass Grows


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