My close relative is usually the keeper of the flame. She maintains the homestead headquarters with the expertise of a cavalry sergeant, and I appreciate her. But, yes, a little word that carries big meanings, Sunday afternoons are for grandkids, naps, ropings and other fun stuff. My close relative never nags, just mentions what needs to be taken care of by me at the most opportune times. She told the preacher's close relative that the place was so grown up she was ashamed and couldn't have the ladies over on Wednesday for their regular meeting.
I am not deaf, nor am I hard-hearted. Maybe a little stiff-necked at times, but I do understand the jab that draws blood. Therefore to maintain the serene atmosphere around here, I proceeded to get out the weed whacker and go to work. It has been warm in these parts and it sure was as I swung the mean machine through the grass in corners that were at least four inches tall.
Then fate took over and the machine started smoking, coughed out its last bit of life and departed this old world. I carried it to the shop, deposited it on the work table and took myself into the house for a nap. Not one word was said, no questions asked, and I was handed a nice tall glass of iced tea. So you see, Sundays belong to a bigger boss and I sure am thankful. A new weed whacker showed up on Monday afternoon and a grand was using it to clean up her yard.
All in all, the beef around here are all doing well. The scattered showers finally dropped almost two inches on this rock pile and the grass greened up. I am at a loss to know what to expect on the hay situation. I turned the heifers in on a small patch we usually cut; it was not gonna ever do it without a good rain and they grazed it down pretty fast. Sure enough, a praying matter. Several of the roundtable fellers have already said they will have to sell all their calves if they want to keep the cows. Can't raise cattle without forage.
Old Dog won't move away from his cool spot in the utility room. My close relative allows him to get out of the heat, fixes him a bowl of cool water and hands him a treat or two. I saw him grin as I left the house after lunch today, temp around 95 degrees. A dog's life ain't so bad around here.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, if we didn't notice ticks and mosquitoes being active, we would think all the wildlife had disappeared. I see some eyes at night when I happen to need to check something, but during the heat, they all stay huddled up somewhere. That is exactly what we need to do, and for those of us who have to be out in it, see to it you water yourself pretty regularly! Check on your neighbors that are housebound to make sure they are able to stay cool. We will be wishing for this in February.
Remember the population explosion and refrain from skinny dipping!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 08/01/2018