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February 8, 2007
Plowing
As you know I have super parents.
I don't just say this because I know the folks read my blog and I'm hoping for that last, big, change in the will that leaves me solely in charge of the vast Wells holdings. I say this because I mean it.
Earlier in the week, wait, before I go any further, school has been out all week due to cold. Yesterday it may have been due to cold and snow -- I'm no weatherman, I don't know.
You'll note that yesterday's blog entry started:
The last two days school has been canceled the night before due to cold. Yesterday and Monday when I got to work it was -2.
Those days I got to work before 8 and at least one morning I was there before 7 a.m. due to the fact school was closed and I didn't need to get boys on the bus.
Today I rolled into work at 8:30 after driving the boys to school. It is -2 F (-18.8 C) and -18 F (-27.7) with the wind chill. It is at least as cold today as it has been all week and it likely feels colder than it has been; last night they announced a Wind Chill Advisory until 10 a.m. today.
I puzzle over why we had school today and not the rest of the week. My kids are out tomorrow for Parent/Teacher conferences.
Anyway, earlier in the week I told the story of how much harsher winters were when my dad was little and how much heartier children were then.
If you don't want to click back to the story let me describe a birthday card I once saw that captures the essence of that entry: On the outside it said, "Dad, I know you'll like this birthday card." And on the inside it said, "I had to walk 10 miles, uphill, in a snowstorm to buy it." Which led me to believe that fathers everywhere make it a habit telling tales about when they were younger.
One day dad and I were driving along talking about something that led to him telling me that when he was little his dad (my grandpa) used to plow a 40-acre field walking behind a mule that was pulling a plow.
That sounds like a lot of work, and I may have said as much.
"And," dad continued, "When he was done with that field he had another 40-acre field across the road that he had to plow."
Which, again, sounded like a lot of work but also made me wonder if dad wasn't pulling my leg a little.
"Do you have pictures of this I asked," trying to suggest that I was on to him.
"No. But I remember walking behind him and breaking up dirt clods with my toes." The way he said it was like he was bringing forward a memory (I won't be able to describe it well, you know how I am) and I knew he was sharing something that had actually happened. (I remembered breaking up dirt clods with my toes in the back yard and could see dad doing it in my mind.)
The oddest part of this whole tale -- or the part I think is most odd -- is that grandma maintained that after grandpa spent a day out plowing he'd come in at night and not even stink. I don't know if grandma had sinus problems, maybe walking in the hot sun all day burned the stink off a man, or maybe grandpa carried a can of Tag Body Spray in his pocket next to the Mail Pouch.
What I do know is that Haydn can wake up in the morning and be kicking a serious funk off his body; he's asleep and kicking up a stink!
I'm thinking of getting the boy a mule and a plow.
(Hey, I found this while looking for the Mail Pouch link.
Posted by delmer at February 8, 2007 8:47 AM
Comments
He didn't stink??? I think Grandma has rose-scented nostrils.
Posted by: The Phoenix at February 8, 2007 12:15 PM