Late winter, which is really Spring work for us, is going good.

Terry and I worked on the big canal right by our yard…we are terrified the ditch company will come along and burn our whole house down…they haven’t been very good about controlling the fires they start these last four or five years.  So now we take care of everything even remotely close to our house, barns, corrals and haystack yards.

I don’t really understand the work ethic of many people anymore…my maternal grandfather always told my brother and I: work hard, do a good job, respect the other person, and never take away a man’s (or woman’s)  dignity.    My Daddy always said that the customer is always right, if you want to have a good business you take care of the people who purchase from you.

Somehow, somewhere those things have slid far, far away, from how people think of others and to be truthful–customer, member/users have no respect for the store, company or business anymore either.

It’s all a shame really.

But enough of that—-as we were working away we saw the little grandchildren get off the bus and start hiking home.  Our grandson ran by our lane as fast as his twelve-year-old legs could carry him—the I pad was calling I’m sure.  But the two little girls trudged down our lane to hang out with us as we worked.   They even helped by spraying Grandpa with water.  Of course, he had to spray them back…it was a jolly good time!

Gradually, we got done with that project.   In the house we went to get snacks then Terry and I loaded the girls up on the four-wheelers and took them home—THE LONG WAY!  They had huge smiles when they got off.

Back home Grandpa headed out to start plowing (yes we plow–our land requires the deep plowing to bury the shredding corn stalks so the earth worms can start to work on them.  We do have some acreage we don’t plow, just rip and plant.)

I’m still working on my trash woodpile.  I hope to get it thoroughly sorted today so chain saw can be applied.  This summer we have to do a better job of not just dumping everything into one heap and actually sorting as we go.  (I hope.  One can dream, I suppose. 🙂 )

Your farm friend,

Linda