The Perfect Song Blog

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Back home I put the tire on the tractor and take the weights off the back tires that I have to put on each winter for traction to use the plow. I then settle in to try to get the chains off. It’s usually a two-minute job but the guy who overhauled the tractor in the fall put the chains on as a favor and clamped them so tight I can’t remove them. I spend an hour, then finally give up and bend one of the links until I can slide it off, loosening t he rest of the chain and removing the master link.

I do this in between throwing the ball for Zeus, the German Shepherd. Every Shepherd should have his own flock of sheep or herd of cows so he can do what his genes tell him to and not reduce him to chasing a ball over and over. Although he seems to really enjoy it.

Then I start on the other tire. . .

I take a break and have a pipe and a coffee.

Leigh finds me and asks if we can put up the length of siding that blew off in a storm this winter. I haul out the ladder and climb to the top where the siding is missing just below the roof. A hornet swoops about, letting me know I’m precariously close to his nest.

After awhile he understands I’m not interested in it and goes away. I wonder if it’s part of local hornet lore that there’s this bearded guy who comes around every so often and sprays nests, killing all who are it in and anyone unfortunate to return and get their feet in the gunk.

I imagine they might talk about it. I mean, there are survivors in every genocide.

As I stand at the top of the ladder trying to get the siding to fit, the sky grows very dark and thunder cracks, echoing through the valley. The wind picks up. I don’t want to quit but it occurs to me that standing on a metal ladder with lightning just to the west and heading toward us is not very smart.

I ask Leigh to get me some white nails. She finds a few and I cheat. After I fit the siding in, I tack the nails into it so the wind won’t blow it down again.

I climb down the ladder just as the storm hits.

When it passes I go back out and spend a half hour putting the belts on the garden tractor mower.

Then it’s dogs in the Jeep and down to Miniers to find food for supper because we’ve both been outside working and I didn’t get groceries last week. I feel like a mountaineer going into town and bringing back grub.

I go for the quick stuff, things that we rarely ever eat – sausage and sauerkraut, barbecue flavored shredded beef. Pasta salad from the deli. Corn chips for the TGI Friday’s spinach cheese dip that I bought at Tops a month ago.

We have supper and another storm hits with a huge dark and greenish sky, meaning everything is right for a tornado formation somewhere. But that passes and we’re pelted with a good old-fashioned thunder storm.

We clean up. I fry the trout that my designer’s husband sent me because they know I love fresh fish. I cook it with Greek seasoning and will have it for lunch this week.

The dogs are beat from a day of frisking around, taking turns hanging with me and Leigh as we worked on separate projects.

I come up and write my thoughts here, and later we’ll watch a recorded TV program, probably Numbers or Without a Trace.

And that will be enough.