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Hey, Mr. Postman Drive My Mail To The Door~

The deck has been making popping sounds all night. With temperatures dropping fast, the water that was absorbed by the deck boards was expanding. The deeper the ground freezes. The colder the air feels. And the more the deck pops. I keep picturing nails shooting out.

I nearly forgot to check the mail today. I put on a heavy flannel shirt with my stylish orange coat, my black waterproof old boots. Wrapped a scarf around my neck, and stuck a grey knit hat on my head and pulled on my over sized brown gloves…

I have to stop here, because my younger male cat, walked off with one of the gloves and I had to sweet-talk him to get it back. I was a bit overheated by the time I grabbed my ski pole walking stick, and called to Uriah to follow me down the driveway.

 Just outside the garage doors, Uriah stopped, lifted his face to the winds, and promptly turned around and asked to go back into the garage. I bribed him with a few, six to be exact, Liver Snaps.

 Closer to the house, on the left side of the driveway as you face west, is a very tall Blue Spruce. It blocks the wind and cold beautifully As soon as I passed that tree I readjusted my scarf and gave Uriah another biscuit.

 The sun was shining brightly and the air was freezing.

Uriah decided if he had to follow me he would stay behind me the entire time.  This way I was blocking the wind.

“Uriah, you can’t be cold.” I scolded him; he grinned and listened for the word treat, or biscuit.

I showed him my gloved hands were void of treats.  “You don’t need any more. You have too much body fat!”

Uriah must have taken offense at that, because he sneezed and wandered over to the fence line and urinated. He waddled back, but never looked at me.

 I made him stop and sit before we got all the way to the road.

The thirty feet before the driveway ended, the blacktop ended. The next twenty feet was dirt and gravel. Tire ruts were filled in with smooth solid ice and banked with craggy ice patches. 

The last ten feet slopped upwards. I trudged up that slight incline at the end of the driveway.  Then stopped and tried to plan out my path.  Those few feet to the mailbox were littered with large chunks of shining, grayish white, ice.  Slick and jagged!  If I wasn’t careful I would fall.

I waited for three cars to past, before I moved up and left, towards the mailbox.

The mailbox door was open. That’s not unusual, trucks speed along this road. Add in winds and I’m surprised they don’t rip out the entire box, post and all.  So far this winter, knock on wood, my mail hasn’t gotten blown out onto the road.

  I checked inside the box, nothing!  I slowly moved back towards my waiting dog.

“Hey! Uriah, do you know how to figure out a formula for Relative Velocity?”  I grabbed his muzzle with both gloved hands and rubbed his face as I continued talking. “Take a truck, a mailbox, and add in wind speed …”

Uriah looked at me, lowered his head to the ground and started to jump around alike a puppy.

“Okay, I get it! You want to go back home!”  I headed towards the house as Uriah happily trotted directly in front of me.

On the way back, I noticed a large softball size piece of ice sitting on the side of the driveway. Stupidly, not realizing it was frozen to the ground. I kicked it trying to get it off the blacktop.  I made a mental note never to do that again. My boots helped to protect my toes. Uriah looked like he was laughing at me…

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Nature Writing

My Wind Is Stronger Than Your Wind~

I live near a small town. I am two and a half miles out of town into farm country. The town was built on a lower section of land and its only 5 sq. miles.   So when the winds are blasting my home, the  town has a nice breeze.

  Only once, that I can recall, in the past fourteen years did the town get hit ‘hard’ with heavy winds.

It was a couple of years ago; I was heading into the small grocery store.  As I walked into the store, I could hear the townspeople talking about the winds.

 (Townspeople that word sounds like they have torches and pitchforks and are shooing out the monsters)

“How horrible!”  I heard, as I moved up and down the aisles.  

“Have you ever seen anything like this? “ Someone else asked me, as I stood paying for my groceries. 

Now, I didn’t want to start a conversation that sounded like I was in kindergarten. My winds are stronger than your winds, type of argument. Instead I held up my hand, palm towards her, in a signal for her to wait a minute.  I walked outside the store, a few seconds later I came back in and answered.  I said, “Seen worse.”  

A farmer was in the line behind her, he just nodded in agreement.

She looked confused.  I got a good look at myself in the front window. My hair was standing on end. Smiling to myself I collected my groceries and walked out the door.   

I check online for the daily temperatures. Then, I step outside to see if the winds are blowing.

 Or if it is summer… or is the sun shining?  Or not!  

In town they also have more tree coverage. All this gives them a slightly warmer winter temperatures than where I am at, just mere two and half miles ‘down the road.’ 

 Heavy sigh!

What does all that mean?  Well, when the temperature online is 11 degrees above zero. Like it is right now! Where I’m at it’s … 5 degrees.  Heat wave!

It will get colder….

 Years ago, I made a bright yellow garden sign with this poem;

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.”

~John Ruskin

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Nature Writing

The Cold Was Freezing My Brain~ Or, You Can’t Out Run A Werewolf In The Snow~

Yawning, I glanced out the window.  Ice crystals had formed on the outside of the window, my breath steamed up the inside of the glass.

This morning the sun was shining brightly, and diamonds glittered off the pristine white snow. I stood there for a moment, shivered, as I admired the designs in the snow. It looked as though someone had dropped pebbles in water and the white ripples froze in place. They  seemed to appear randomly throughout the yard.  I knew the patterns were formed by very cold ground winds as they jumped from one high patch to the next.

Outside temperature was 0 degrees…

Inside the house I heard the winds howling as they moved under the eves and around the chimney, and then tried to push in through the gaps in the old windows.  I heard the sound of the deck popping from the cold. The boards were freezing.

I grabbed an old purple sweatshirt, pulled it on over my head and shuffled to the kitchen.   Before I do anything I need my morning coffee, at least a sip.  

 A short time later I was standing out at the end of the driveway in three feet of snow. Not too bad, considering yesterdays snow fall. This was soft; at least the snow blower might be able to plow through this.  It will be slow going. All that snow I couldn’t remove yesterday was frozen solid and lined the driveway in slippery uneven miniature icebergs.  

I lowered my scarf from my face and allowed the blast of cold to hit me straight on. It felt like my eyes froze. Ouch!

I made sure no cars were coming and stepped out of the drive looking down the road to the north. The street was a slick, sheet of ice. Then to the south where it was patchy, strips of ice and blacktop.

The winds raced across the road at ground level.  It looked as though someone had put dry ice in the ditch for miles in both directions. A snowy mist poured over the ditch onto the road, and raced along the ground to the other side.  

It did look a bit eerie.

I started laughing, my imagination was running wild, “Keep to the road, don’t walk in the moors, the werewolves will get you!”   Oh! That would look great! Trying to out run anything in this cold would have to happen in slow motion- by both parties.

The cold had to be freezing my brain!  There was no other explanation…

The tips of my fingers were hurting; I curled my hands up in my gloves.

Uriah paced in the snow, lifting one paw then the other. His head was covered in snow. He had been rolling in a snow drift.

“Come on, Uriah! Let’s go back in where it’s warmer.”

Picture From:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Loup-garou.jpg
Categories
Nature Writing

How Many Rocks Can My Pockets Hold?~

Written on December 7th, 2009~

 Earlier this morning when I took my dog out for a walk, the air was a mist of grey fog. The sun was a haze in the early morning sky. When I first glanced up, I thought the Sun was the Moon, defused in the grey mist and entangle in the dense cloud cover. My breath and the fog were inseparable.  

It had snowed during the night. Everything was covered in white. Each branch was coated, in a perfect holiday photo shoot. The ground was frozen so even the driveway was paved white.

I stayed near the house, and planned on walking out back later in the day.

It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon by the time I decided to take a walk. The snow was no longer coating the trees. Only lines of snow zigzagged across the lawn   

Uriah took off in the trees, angrily barking.  He reappeared in front of me, only to follow the tracks of a grey squirrel. Whose residence is in the trees at the beginning of the path.

 The air was cold yet tolerable. I had forgotten my gloves back by the house and my fingers weren’t freezing, so I was happy. I started walking to the right, where the ground moves upward on a slight incline. Directly in the center of the path a small, three inch evergreen had taken root. I never saw it before.  I made a mental note to remember and check on it in spring.  If it really was growing on the path I’ll need to transplant it.

 I continued on my way. When I reached the far back and started to circle home, I stopped to admire the old farm house and its red barn, equally sized white Silos and smaller buildings all built up together like a castle, the surrounding grass and turned over fields, patterned shades of brown, yellow, green, and beige.  The sections were the last rain fell washed the dirt to a dark black.  White snow striped the empty corn fields.

I could see for miles…  

Faded green grass still stood out in the farmer’s air field. Along the air field, past forty acres of plowed fields, I watched Black Angus cows. They moved slowly into a fenced in field. 

Off to the northeast, I could see helicopter hovering in the direction of the express way.

Uriah started to bark, as  I walked  back, I kept calling  his name, and he kept answering by barking- not by appearing.

I reached the part of the path, that was directly across from where I saw the little evergreen, at the beginning of my walk.  I stopped and poked the dirt with my ski pole, it gave way. I called to Uriah each call I stabbed the pole at the dirt, I hit a rock!

Curiosity got the better of me.  I stood there digging out this little rock, which lay just under the dirt and field grass. It was a slight tipsy square flat rock, to my eye it was nearly perfect. With the thought of crafting something, maybe checkers.  I slipped it into my pocket as Uriah barked again.

At that point I looked down, and found another little evergreen growing on the path.

The grass all around me had given up trying to reach for the sky and laid level with the ground, sleeping until spring.   I walked back a few feet searching for more of the little saplings. I found six more going in the center of the path.

Uriah’s barking became more agitated; I started walking back towards home. Every few feet I called him and he answered back, I felt like I was playing ‘Marco Polo’ with him.

Picture from:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blackangus.jpg
Categories
Nature Writing

“The Best Laid Schemes O’ Mice An’ Men Go Often Askew”~Robert Burns

Yesterday  morning,  I was up with the sun. I opened the window blinds next to the computer, the window that faces east and I watched the sunrise.  A blanket of Altostratus clouds covered half the sky, rippling from the sunset towards the west.

  Along the horizon a narrow strip of pinkish, reddish, sunrise slipped through the break in the clouds and spread upwards, weaving under and over the clouds.  Then peeked out to outline the ripple of clouds in a yellow, white, and pink tinge, all the while the clouds raced, from west to east, along the southern skyline.

Kenshin, my half Siamese male, jumped effortlessly onto the windowsill. He settled his hind legs, with a wiggle, positioning himself on the ledge.  The tip of his tail flipped as he stared outside.

Kenshin’s sister, Tomoe, jumped up next to him in perfect pantomime.  With a flip of her tail she sat beside him. Her shining black fur rolled in irritation.   They both turned, two set of eyes followed my every move, his light blue and her bright gold eyes.   

 Loosing interest in me, they turned back to the window and watched a rat hopping around the outside kennel.  Their mouths quivered.  An odd sound came from both of them. He made a high pitch growling meowing sound. She kept opening and closing her mouth with a smacking sound. They both stared out the window, then back at me, willing me to open the window so they could do what cats do best…  Hunt!

“No, Kenshin! No, Tomoe, I have to trap those rats myself.” 

I don’t know if they understood what I said, or just got tired of wishing after a rat,  when I added, “No outside!” They both jumped down, and Kenshin gave me downward frown.  Tomoe just glared, as she flashed those golden eyes.   They both ran out of the room giving me a backward, scowl. A teenage girl couldn’t have done that look any better.  

One rat, was an irritation, I counted six! They aren’t big. About the size of my hand, but they have to go!  Just figuring out how is the problem.

 I Googled, “How to kill a rat humanely.”

One site said, use poison.  Nope not an option!  I don’t want to kill the Hawks and Owls that hunt around here. Beside the obvious, poison can kill my cat or dog if they eat the dieing rat.

If a poisoned rat gets caught in the walls, Well, that smell will be horrible. I  wondered what would happen if it died, lying on the dirt of my garden and I didn’t see it until spring. Wouldn’t that poison leach into the soil? Big, emphatic, “Yes”  answers that question.

 I found, ‘Rat Zappers.’ on Amazon.  Electrocute the rat starting at forty dollars and up. I checked my purse, no money, on to the next idea.

I found a site, that had the stomp and squish method- it says it all.

There is the bee bee gun method. I looked at the windows and the chain link fence and saw how that could go wrong.

The best, economical rat trap is a cat.  If the rat stays outside, and my cats stay only indoors, they won’t come in direct contact with each other.  But if they ever come inside, they will be used as a squeaky toy. The proximity factor just knocked Kenshin and Tomoe out of the equation. 

I have a live catch trap in the barn. I decided that would be the best first try, for now. Besides I won’t need to pay for the supplies.

I headed for the barn, and dug out the trap and placed it in Uriah’s kennel. I put some of his food on the inside platform, which in theory is suppose to close the door when the rat steps on it.  That’s the plan.

“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men Go often askew,” ~ Robert Burns’s poem, ‘To a Mouse.’

I had three rats in the cage; they were walking all over that platform. And it never triggered the cage door…

I went back outside and tried to loosen the piece of metal.  Then I placed a board across the platform, with food perched on top.

I went back into the house and watched. Not one of those rats came near the cage. I will leave the trap outside all night.

I just hope I don’t catch a skunk…

I got my 1,000 hit on my site today..Thank you guys! Comment and ask me to add you to my BlogRoll:-)

Jones & Son, The rat trap people
http://www.rattraps.org.uk/Rat-Traps/about.aspx
Rat Zapper
http://www.amazon.com/s?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=rat+zapper+ultra
Robert Burns World Federation
http://www.worldburnsclub.com/poems/translations/554.htm
Categories
Nature Writing

My One Month Blog Anniversary ~ Or Is That Called An ‘Blogiversary?’

December 2nd, 2009. I have had this Blog up one month, today. And I enjoyed writing every post. There aren’t any free downloads to commemorate the occasion, just this new Blog post. Enjoy! I love to hear your comments, or just say, ‘Hi,’ as you pass through.

Be careful don’t step in a muskrat hole! 

Today may be overcast and slightly cooler than yesterday, with the temperatures in the forties.  For some reason it just doesn’t feel cold to me.

As I walked around the back path, I stopped and listened to the small, black and grey, birds they fluttered and chirped angrily at me in the trees. These little guys jump around so fast and keep inside the tree branches it is hard to see specific markings. I will keep guess and searching for their names. Chickadee, maybe, they are in the order of Passeriformes.

Uriah kept his nose to the ground pointing out each new muskrat hole and scat droppings. I called to him and he sat at my side.

I closed my eyes and listened to the wind. That’s when I realized the breeze was moving in low from the Northwest, but along the ground. My coat fluttered and I felt the gentle breeze on my chin, and that’s where it stopped. The low grass rustled, but not the taller, dried beige tops of the Goldenrod. This wind was skimming the ground, sneaking around the base of the trees, chasing pieces of corn husks, and an odd leaf or two.

Sounds were muffled; I opened my eyes and looked up at the grey overcast sky. Today’s cloud cover  pulled in a heavy, thick silence, that precedes a storm, rain or snow.

I heard a motorized buzzing, I looked up and around. From the east, a small helicopter flew towards me, high above the plowed fields.  I watched as it approached, and passed overhead quickly.

When I looked down Uriah was gone. Little bugger! I couldn’t hear him nosing around anywhere and I wasn’t in the mood to start calling for him. I decided to continue on with my walk, he will find me this time.

I took my time walking back and as I hoped, Uriah was nervously waiting for me at the edge of the path. He wiggled into my leg to have his head patted, and nuzzled my coat pocket for a treat.

“Silly dog! Why should I give you a treat when you run off?”

My half hearted attempt at scolding him didn’t work; he just stared at me smiling. I gave him a Liver Snap biscuit.

Uriah tried to get me to look inside a large animals burrow by digging around it and crying.  Stupidly I approached, the subtle smell of a skunk wafted around me, I stopped, then slowly backed away and whistled for him to follow.   

 I walked along the tree line, as we headed back to the house. I saw the old pair of jeans that had been in Uriah’s kennel.  I mentioned them here:  http://gerardinebaugh.wordpress.com/?s=Magical+Gnomes.

They were bunched up against the base of a tree, nearly fifty feet inside the tree line.  I wondered, if  it was the coyotes who moved them around.

 Entering the backyard, we were greeted with the excited clicking of the Northern Cardinal; I saw four males, bright red, hopping from branch to branch in the old apple tree. More answered from deeper in the trees. Only one Sparrow showed his feathered features. I only saw him because I tried to look around the base of the apple tree for the female Cardinals. 

The air was getting heavier, and the cloud cover thickened almost instantly.  Rain is coming…

Categories
Nature Writing

Clouds Touched The Earth

The day started out cool, wet, and misty, with the clouds touching the earth.

 I walked through those  clouds this morning, as I navigated the muddy path. No longer overflowing with water, which had drained off during the night, the path now was a mess of slippery and slimy mud.

 I decided if I walked carefully and slowly, while holding onto my ski pole and the Bog Willows that grew on the sides of the path, I wouldn’t fall and get covered in mud.

 That was the plan.

I really should have told Uriah the plan.

Halfway into the path and feeling proud I hadn’t kicked up any of the permanent staining mud, I stopped and looked back at Uriah. He stood at the edge of the mud, tongue hanging out and a big smile on his fury face. He wasn’t looking at me; I turned back and saw a grey squirrel nosing around the base of a tree. My eyes swept the ground from the squirrel, past me to Uriah. I took in all that mud.

Then watched, in slow motion as Uriah stood up, and charged at the squirrel, mud kicked up over his head, as he raced past.  

What I said could not be printed here.

 Uriah didn’t even notice. In his head, he was chasing the big bad squirrel.

On my head sat a clump of mud, with some moss mixed in…

Within the next second he took off into the trees, barking.

I ignored him while I called his name. I walked all the way around the path and he stayed where he was, in the trees barking.

The fog moved through the trees, giving everything a soft feel. Birds yelled at me, or maybe Uriah. Crows, Blackbirds, and Blue Jays flew to the tops of the trees screaming in irritation. Cardinals were on the lower branches, as they followed me around the path. They landed in the trees and bushes just ahead, or off to the side.  As I passed they flew on ahead, waiting on the next branch.

I slipped through the mud, and I headed back towards the house.

Uriah stayed in the trees and continued to bark.

Finches and dark-eyed junco, and black-capped chickadees, flittered in-between the trees as I passed by. 

I noticed this year’s over produced bird, the Sparrow. At least fifty of them were in the grass around the burn pile; they flew up into the blue spruce, and chattered away.  I startled those Sparrows as I passed by, I stopped and  watched; they took flight heading over the roof in perfect synchronization, turning to the left, then right as they maneuvered around trees, until they landed in my neighbor’s trees and bushes. 

Last year the over abundant bird was the Common Grackle. The year before, Mourning Doves flourished.

It took only a moment for me to wonder, when the birds of prey will notice all those sparrows. Suddenly, a high pitch screech echoed above and around me.  The Red-tailed hawk,  had already seen them.

Red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensi)

http://www.illinoisraptorcenter.org/Field%20Guide/redtailpictures.html

Categories
Nature Writing

Squirrel VS. Acorn Squash

Early yesterday morning, I glanced out the window to check on Uriah. He was sitting in the bright morning sunshine; his head cocked to one side his ears up and forwards watching something near the line of trees.

Blinking I tried to focus on what caught his attention.  I looked at the burn pile where green and beige grass stood up in uneven tuffs, dried branches and a pile of cuttings from the vegetable garden flopped over haphazardly.

I could see nothing out of the ordinary.

I looked back at Uriah. He was still staring; his head at a tilted angle, with his left ear pointing at the ground.

I tried again to focus, again. This time past the burn pile along the tree line. Fifty feet away there was a fuzzy grey squirrel, he was laying along the ground with his front paws on an acorn squash. I could see bright yellow splotches on the dark, dark green squash.

 I blinked, then rubbed my eyes as the squirrel stood up off the ground, stood on the squash and jumped up, his downward pounce had the acorn squash roll slightly and he fell off.

The squirrel stood for a moment, staring at the squash.  Positioned himself on the side towards the house, reached out slowly and put his front paws on the squash and pushed. 

The squash rolled forward. He fell on his face, prone on the ground, back legs stretched out behind him front paws still touching the vegetable.  Then, that squirrel jumped up, landed on top the squash and held on with his nails, as it rolled, very slowly, away from the burn pile, with the squirrel attached so he fell on the opposite side.

At this point I noticed I had tilted my head like Uriah, in a, what the..!!, stance.

I watched for a few more moments as that fuzzy grey squirrel circled the squash, with his tail flipping, analyzing the situation.

I called Uriah, he looked up at me, then back at the squirrel. He eyes rolled up towards me, then back at the squirrel. Like he was saying, “Can you believe this? 

I decided I needed coffee I was hallucinating.

Photograph and upload by John Delano, of Hammond, Indiana
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Sciurus_carolinensis_3.jpg
Categories
Nature Writing

Crabgrass~ Loved By Birds

I had an over growth of crabgrass this year.

Next year, I will know to pull out the young growth of green grass when it starts to appear.  Letting it sit, because I wasn’t up to weeding, caused a large problem for the tomatoes and me all summer long.

I talked to other home gardeners living in my area. They complained about the crabgrass and for once, I wasn’t jealous when they said, they used their gas powered tillers in a futile attempt to rip out the crabgrass.

Crabgrass has an evasive toot system. If you chop one root into a million pieces, like an unwanted creature in a horror movie, you will end up with a million new little creatures Or rather, a redundant amount of crabgrass. 

This past summer, I made a half hearted attempt to pull one plant at a time. Crabgrass pulls back, as it sticks its heels in and sneers at you.

By fall the crabgrass had gone to seed. Millions of little black seeds, I panicked!  I sat on the deck and wondered how I will get rid of this mess in a non chemical fashion?

Mother Nature came through to remove part of the crabgrass problem in the form of birds, Finches, Wrens, Sparrows, and Cardinals, all converged on the garden.  They landed in the grass, on the dirt, the rocks and on the dog kennel. Grabbing at the plants, and eating the little seeds. 

My stress level lowered, naturally.

After I had cleaning out the old tomato plants, zucchini and pumpkins plants I made a half-hearted attempt at raking up the dried crabgrass.

I used tree leaves to cover the ground. Over the leaves I set a piece of wood fencing to hold everything down. The grass and weeds that are still growing will die over the winter, making it a lot easier to break up the root system in spring.

Well, that’s the plan..

 

 

Picture found at;

http://www.aragriculture.org/horticulture/ornamentals/weed_id/crabgrass.htm

Categories
Nature Writing

Uriah and I stopped sneezing long enough to watch the harvester turn around.

Beautiful day!  Skies are clear, very little wind; temperatures are mild, in the mid fifties.

 Uriah was the first to notice the farm equipment pull into the field next door. He freaked! He climbed on the deck and cowered on the north side, farthest way from the equipment. 

The corn in the southern field was finally being  harvested. I stood outside and watched as the large tractor moved slowly into place. I could see the farmer in the cab and a child.

Farmer’s children will help them with the harvesting.  They watch for problems as their parent harvests the crops.The cab they sat in was sealed, heated and air-conditioned.

The winds were blowing away from me, so as the tractor passed by most of the dust spread out to the south.

Just as I thought, “Wow,  I am lucky the wind isn’t blowing in this direction.” The wind changed!  I started coughing, and blinking rapidly as the dust settled in over my head.

I choked out Uriah’s name and we headed towards the path to take a walk. The trees in that area blocked some of the harvesting dust. Well, sort of..

I crossed my fingers that the farmer would only be working on the lower part of the field at this time. I smiled, when I saw him hit the half way point near the drainage tiles and turn around.

 Uriah and I stopped sneezing long enough to watch the harvester.

With all the bare fields, the animals have been congregating in our trees. Last night, every hour, I was yelling out the doors for the coyotes to leave. There must have been close to a dozen howling and yelping very close to the house.

Coyotes don’t understand windows.  So, I had to insure the indoor cats stayed away from the glass. I really didn’t have to worry; they hid under the bed when the howling started.

Uriah, on the other hand, was whining and barking wanting to chase them. A dog barking won’t keep coyotes away from the house. It has the opposite effect. So, between trying to calm down Uriah, petting the cats and yelling at the coyotes, it was a fun night.

Halfway through the walk, Uriah disappeared with hackles raised, into the trees. Stupidly I walked in after him, calling and getting tangled in leafless under brush. After a short time, I headed back to the house. When Uriah reappeared  his tongue was trailing on the ground.  

The farmer took a lunch break and finished the back half of the field; I stood out on the deck and enjoyed the view.

This scene has to be a little boy’s dream.  A large tractor harvesting corn slowly chopping, crunching, and roaring through a field, as an equally large dump truck waits to be filled with the corn; such an impressive, unobstructed view of a real mid-western farm life.  

I love it out here.