I live in the country.
Or at least I used to until everyone and their dog wanted to build their house across the street. My little hamlet is becoming a town.
Even so, my landlord owns a tractor. Actually three tractors of various sizes. One is actually a snowblower type machine, but I like the reaction I get when I say "three tractors". One is smallish, and is used primarily for moving things like very large flower pots from one bit of the property to another bit, and to takes piles of paper to the burn pile out back by the orchard.
The largest one has its very own bay in the garage, and it only comes out for the very heavy work. It gets hitched up to tillers and seeders and other things I'd make up the names of, but you'd catch on that I don't really know what I'm talking about so I'll leave it at that.
When I came home today I saw him hard at work out in the field with BT (Big Tractor) which made me happy because the man really does love to putter with his toys. Eventually I heard rumbling approaching the house, and then the sound of BT's wheel on the paved driveway. And then nothing. I heard doors open and close out there, and an occasional mutter, and then again nothing.
The next thing I saw was him walking past my living room window with a rifle in hand.
They don't shoot tractors, do they?
solitude + inspiration
27 April 2018
25 April 2018
Hello, the world!
...testing... testing...
Does this blog still work? Are there even any readers out there?
The itch to write has returned, and it is niggling at me, like a burr stuck to the inside of my sweater in a place I can't quite reach. The only thing to do, it would seem, is... write!
It has been an unendingly dark, grey, somber, cold, wet winter. All the hygge I could muster was not able to dispel the unendingliness of it. This week has felt like a reprieve for the sun shone as prettily as it could, the sky blued so beautifully, and the air was full of the happy sounds of chirping birds.
And then today happened. It is, once again, dark and wet with a general air of "nooooo, not again!"
As I sit here at my desk in the window, I hear the wind grabbing at the screen which is such a lonely, sorrowful sound. The sun is setting, and even though it is after eight which is much nicer than when it set at 4:30, I'm wishing it would linger just a little longer.
Still and all, we are surely heading into Spring, oh frabjous day!
I hope the sun is shining on you, where ever you may be.
Does this blog still work? Are there even any readers out there?
The itch to write has returned, and it is niggling at me, like a burr stuck to the inside of my sweater in a place I can't quite reach. The only thing to do, it would seem, is... write!
It has been an unendingly dark, grey, somber, cold, wet winter. All the hygge I could muster was not able to dispel the unendingliness of it. This week has felt like a reprieve for the sun shone as prettily as it could, the sky blued so beautifully, and the air was full of the happy sounds of chirping birds.
And then today happened. It is, once again, dark and wet with a general air of "nooooo, not again!"
As I sit here at my desk in the window, I hear the wind grabbing at the screen which is such a lonely, sorrowful sound. The sun is setting, and even though it is after eight which is much nicer than when it set at 4:30, I'm wishing it would linger just a little longer.
Still and all, we are surely heading into Spring, oh frabjous day!
I hope the sun is shining on you, where ever you may be.
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