Life Gets More Complex All The Time

Sit back, let your mind reel out in any direction it wants, and think of all the possible scenarios that may have caused a cemetary down the road to erect a sign that reads: Burial By Permission Only.

You Were Expecting William James?

I fully intended upon sitting down and posting some erudite reflection on farm life, but my mind currently contains nothing but an image from this morning:
I'm fixing a shelf in the packing shed and have all my little tools gathered around me. All, that is, but the right size screw. So I walk back up to the shop and start turning over jars and containers until I find what I need, when this hummingbird flies in, circles around a few times, considers feeding from an old brakelight on the shelf, thinks better of it, and departs. There. I've shared.

Sometimes Hot Springs is Just a Little, Well, Too Hot Springs

and here's an example

Half-Baked

Or maybe half-froze, as the ol' mercury has been dropping lately, suggesting that it's like September or something.
We've sort of almost got strawberries in, and if I sound a bit noncommittal about that, it's because we're dealing with the same old tried and true scenario of tractors breaking down and not having supplies we need and not having enough time and blah blah blah, but, as I say, we've almost got strawberries in. Keep the deer and the mice out of them, and we'll be fine.
Almost got another chicken coop built, too. But it's slow going and I work on it when there aren't more pressing issues, but I'm plugging along. Been months, but I'm almost there.
So enough complaining about what I haven't done. Here's a list of what I have done:
I've almost get the strawberries in. That's an accomplishment.
Oh, and I'm almost finished with a new chicken coop. That's exciting.
The glass is either ... well, you know.

There's is but sickness

all around me, ringing on the telephone and talking before me, on and on as I pretend to pay attention and care. It grows, it's hopeless and pathetic and does nothing but remind me that I am heading that way.
Off and away early this morning to help some folks a few miles up the road - I needed to lift some batteries up onto the roof of the house and connect them to their solar array. They're both too old now to lift batteries themselves, and that rickety ladder that seemed like such a good idea when they built the house thirty years ago is now a deathtrap. So I go over to lift their batteries, patiently waiting as they explain to me how its done, all the while waiting for them to go get a screwdriver or a piece of rope or something else they've forgotten, so I can just lift everything up to the roof before they get back. They never leave.
Time is suspended for the old and decrepid. They take hours to move a chair or spread some jam, staring down at the toast in front of them and moving their arm from the jar to the toast in what seems like years, and then doing it again. And again.
So the batteries are on the roof and they tighten down all the nuts in slow motion and I'm drinking tea and looking for an excuse to excuse myself. And they're talking about how much longer they can live where they are, on top of a mountain and off the grid, and how hard it is going to be to adjust to an old folks home. And then they offer me another piece of toast and insist on spreading the jam for me.
I make my getaway and go home and cut a basket of basil to take to Hot Springs - a friend has an Inn and is sponsoring a cooking class this weekend. I know the folks teaching the class, only the wife has been sick for a few years, and keeps getting worse instead of better and I have to pretend like I care whenever I see them.
I try to think of positive things to say but hear myself sounding phony so say nothing and she doesn't seem to care or notice, so intent is she is reciting her long list of ailments and woes. At least I'm off the hook. Or so it seems. Gradually the room fills up with people, so I start to feel like I have to say something, to at least not look stupid, so I again begin my optomistic banalities.
All I'm thinking during both these ordeals is that I want to get out of there. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the thought that this too could be me, and someday probably will, but then I start to think about something else and it's a little while before it again occurs to me that this too could be me, and someday probably will.
And how was your day?

Winding Down

That's exactly what things are doing here on the farm, and sliding inexhorably into autumn.
We don't have a lot left left in the fields, and that what is there isn't looking too good. We'll shut everything down, soon.
I respond to this with a tremendous Whew and a sigh of relief.
All I've really learned this year is that I don't want to farm hurt, and don't want to have to do anything at all after I've been operated on.
We tried to do too much this year, and ended up doing nothing well. I should have known. (In fact, I did know.)
It's going to feel good, really good, to put the fields to rest and get things cleaned up.
I want to get all the cover crops in in a timely manner, and cut some drainage ditches for snow melt.
I want to get a decent chicken coop built.
I want to finish the new greenhouse, which is functional but has lied unfinished since March.
I want to wire the packing shed, so we're not loading the trucks in the dark, or off lamps plugged into an extension cord.
I want to get the trucks tuned up and cleaned up and running smoothly.
I want to build large, cubicle modern art structures to display on Christmas tree lots in Texas.
I want to save endangered woodpeckers..
The usual.