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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2rF3Swj:
I was initially concerned at the amount of late-night traffic going around this farm, but I just remembered that the new intern is learning stick shift, so I’ve just put together that the person driving laps around the farm road in the old Jeep in the pouring driving rain after dusk well after any farm work has ceased is– well, she’s studying, is all.
Good on her. I was starting to worry there was some emergency.
(I came out to the yurt for the night in a pouring teeming rain, deciding I’d waited long enough indoors and also my laptop battery was going to die. I had a huge golf umbrella so whatever. I dropped my laptop bag into the yurt, went and hooked up the extension cord for the power, and then went and re-carved all our drainage ditches in the road with my boot heel, because there was a muddy river going straight across the farmyard where Sister and I had worked so hard on little ditches and cuts everywhere to keep it from doing that. I re-dug all the trenches, and had mostly concluded that the river was due to too much rain and not poor drainage, when I got up to the very first one in the series, and realized that the big cascade of drainage that comes down the hill where the pigs live had gotten diverted and was coming down the road instead of following the cut into the creek.
The creek is all muddy and raging, though. It’s very satisfying to listen to. I expect I won’t sleep well for the noise, tonight– the trees drop water intermittently, and I don’t like too much noise outside because then I worry I wouldn’t hear an animal or person sneaking up on me– but I do like listening to it, so at least I won’t be unhappy lying awake.)
(Sorry for a million Instagram videos today, but I spent most of the day with Farmbaby and she was being hilarious. We went to the State Museum, which I went to very often for my entire childhood and youth, and we saw my Forever Special Interest, the Cohoes Mastodont, which Mom used to take me on regular visits to from infancy (culminating in a pilgrimage to the Museum of Natural History in New York City when I was 18 months old that remains enshrined in my consciousness, somewhere deep down where awe lives, because they have a mammoth skeleton, which apparently Toddler!Me stood staring at entranced for an improbably-extended period). Farmbaby was duly impressed, largely I think because she’d been told to be. But she’s cooperative like that about some things. Not about eating her supper…)
There goes Intern Girl again, at a more moderate pace this time. I wonder how many laps she’ll do. It’s good for her, but what she’s really got to do is practice starting on hills… Hey, if nothing else, stick shift is going to be one of those lifelong skills. I can’t believe, though, she’s a farmer’s granddaughter and didn’t already know! Straight from Kansas no less. Hmph! You never can tell these days.
I was initially concerned at the amount of late-night traffic going around this farm, but I just remembered that the new intern is learning stick shift, so I’ve just put together that the person driving laps around the farm road in the old Jeep in the pouring driving rain after dusk well after any farm work has ceased is– well, she’s studying, is all.
Good on her. I was starting to worry there was some emergency.
(I came out to the yurt for the night in a pouring teeming rain, deciding I’d waited long enough indoors and also my laptop battery was going to die. I had a huge golf umbrella so whatever. I dropped my laptop bag into the yurt, went and hooked up the extension cord for the power, and then went and re-carved all our drainage ditches in the road with my boot heel, because there was a muddy river going straight across the farmyard where Sister and I had worked so hard on little ditches and cuts everywhere to keep it from doing that. I re-dug all the trenches, and had mostly concluded that the river was due to too much rain and not poor drainage, when I got up to the very first one in the series, and realized that the big cascade of drainage that comes down the hill where the pigs live had gotten diverted and was coming down the road instead of following the cut into the creek.
The creek is all muddy and raging, though. It’s very satisfying to listen to. I expect I won’t sleep well for the noise, tonight– the trees drop water intermittently, and I don’t like too much noise outside because then I worry I wouldn’t hear an animal or person sneaking up on me– but I do like listening to it, so at least I won’t be unhappy lying awake.)
(Sorry for a million Instagram videos today, but I spent most of the day with Farmbaby and she was being hilarious. We went to the State Museum, which I went to very often for my entire childhood and youth, and we saw my Forever Special Interest, the Cohoes Mastodont, which Mom used to take me on regular visits to from infancy (culminating in a pilgrimage to the Museum of Natural History in New York City when I was 18 months old that remains enshrined in my consciousness, somewhere deep down where awe lives, because they have a mammoth skeleton, which apparently Toddler!Me stood staring at entranced for an improbably-extended period). Farmbaby was duly impressed, largely I think because she’d been told to be. But she’s cooperative like that about some things. Not about eating her supper…)
There goes Intern Girl again, at a more moderate pace this time. I wonder how many laps she’ll do. It’s good for her, but what she’s really got to do is practice starting on hills… Hey, if nothing else, stick shift is going to be one of those lifelong skills. I can’t believe, though, she’s a farmer’s granddaughter and didn’t already know! Straight from Kansas no less. Hmph! You never can tell these days.
