Packing the Days

 Yesterday was an example of the kind of days that have been rolling along this summer and into the fall.  One thing after another as I try to get a number of things taken care of and behind me.  The day began with some typical activities, not under any pressure, having some coffee and solving a few puzzles to keep brain fogginess at bay as the brain ages--sudoku, quiptoquip, mini-crossword, wordle.  Then I got on the treadmill and walked three miles, alternating this past week between running a bit and walking versus just walking.  It feels like things are going better and taking off some pounds I really don't need.  Shower.  

Then breakfast and off to the lumberyard to get some drywall to patch the hole I cut for the plumbing repair, which seems to be working just fine, thank you very much.  Then to the hardware store for new guts for the upstairs toilet, that seems to want to stay running after you flush it.  Both projects await.  

Then off to Winfred to help with the harvest, driving a grain cart for Joe and Gary as they reap the corn rewards of summer.  Meanwhile, plenty of messages rolling in from Casualene and others looking to help a family new to Madison and arrange for a refrigerator delivery since I had one to donate.  Other messages to arrange for help moving the fridge.  With harvest done for the day, off to Tom and Karen's to pick up a dolly to move the fridge (with a nice talk with Tom trying to ease more into easier living), then to Howard to get ready to move it, then John arrived to help (with a nice talk with John about random stuff) and off to Madison to deliver the appliance to a trailer court, where I was met by Casualene and her husband Ken and son Isaac.  Got the fridge in the dilapidated trailer as the family and some young missionaries watched.  

I hadn't been through that trailer court for years, and never often, and the state of things in some of the homes made me both cringe and feel gratitude that my own trailer court days are behind me.  There are those who seem to have so little that a dirty sagging trailer serves as a welcome refuge, and I was happy to know that my donation of a fridge I didn't need would make a difference for them.  

Then, finally home to the wife and supper and some pleasant viewing of Derry Girls, season 3, on Netflix.  

Tucked into all this are brief moments in the tractor jotting down some lines and tidbits inspired from harvest action and aimed at a little poetry.  Finally then, finishing my Roddy Doyle novel Love and off to dreamland.  

Pickup, Snowdrift, and a Friendly Farmer

So, a friend calls, and our hero goes out on a rescue mission.  It's been cold, and it's been snowy, and the wind has been doing its typical thing in these parts, turning the snow into snowdrifts that function like concrete road barricades.  Our hero jumps in his Ford pickup, confidently heading to his friend's house, confidently navigating north, into the wind, on a day when the temperature reads -15. Confident, because he's got FOUR WHEEL DRIVE and MUD GRIP TIRES.  Almost the same as snow-grip tires, right?  Almost.  He's got HOT COFFEE!  Well, our hero turns off the Firecracker road and sees that someone has already driven down this road.  Yesterday.  BW.  Before the concrete-producing wind.  He can see the tops of fence-posts.  He can see the remnants of a plowing from days gone by.  And he can see snow.  Lots.  His confidence fades, but he takes another sip of hot coffee and hits the gas.  Then he hits the brakes and waits, thinking.  He steps outside and trudges through the snow, most of it somewhere between his boot-tops and his knees.  The wind blows much of his coffee-induced, four-wheel-drive confidence away.

Our hero's father always claimed that people with four wheel drives got stuck more often than people without.

Our hero decides his pickup can handle the snow.  He drives in.  Stops.  Backs out.  Looks over one daunting drift.  Shovels some of it away.  Drives through the drift, into more drift.  He stops, one wheel dangerously tempting the ditch.  He feels a kind of sinking that hot coffee cannot buoy, a kind of wind-whipped flag beginning to tatter and pop, so that someone seeing the tattered flag might wonder, "Why would anyone leave a raggedy flag like that up?"  Our hero musters a hint of confidence again, shovels some snow away, peers beneath the FOUR WHEEL DRIVE pickup to see he's clear of the snow.  He's clear.

He backs up, away from the tempting ditch, back through the daunting drift, following his tracks, except his tracks don't go into the ditch, where he now finds himself.  He's got a cell phone, so he calls for a tow.  Todd's Towing.  Quick answer. He'll be right out.

Then, his friend calls.  Farmer on the way.  Soon, over the hill, the smoke and vapor of a tractor appears, then the tractor itself, its bucket down, scraping a path through concrete barriers that fail to daunt.  Our hero calls back Todd, who says he'll wait to see whether the tow is necessary.  The tractor passes by.  Then returns, backing up, then a friendly farmer emerges from the cab, a log chain in hand.

"On a rescue mission?"
"I was."

Our hero hears how the farmer is clearing the road for his wife.

"She's got a swimming lesson at Lake Campbell."
"She's a tough old bird," our hero retorts.

The pickup comes out nicely.

Our hero calls Todd, calls the friend, calls the wife.  His coffee has cooled.  He arrives home safely.  He is confident there is hot coffee at home.