Winter alert! The summer solstice is behind us. That means winter is coming. Don’t forget where you put your long-underwear. I just wanted to be the first to give you a winter heads-up. You’re welcome.
My good friend, ol’ C. Faren Wyde, prefers to drive a white SUV instead of a pickup truck or an ATV. He drives it everywhere — snd that includes when he’s trying to handle “cattle situations.”
Well, such a “cattle situation” arose recently when one of the bulls Faren had in with his cows developed an eye problem and needed to come to the corrals for doctoring.
So, Faren commenced an SUV one-bull cattle drive. It didn’t take long before the bull got hot and in bullheaded fashion headed for the nearest pond to cool down and elude his pursuer.
Faren, in equally bullheaded fashion, said to himself, “Not on my watch, Big Boy,” and proceeded to steer (no pun intended) the bull away from the pond. They zig-zagged back and forth across the pasture with the bull gaining ground with every turn.
Finally, the showdown came. The bull made a crazed dash for the pond and Faren made a crazed SUV dash to head him off.
Well, sad to say, the bull won the dash and Faren and the SUV ended up stuck — tight — in the mud at the pond’s edge.
Nothin’ else to do, Faren made an indignant cell phone call for help from family members. It took awhile, but help finally arrived and, after a few good-natured quips about Faren’s driving and cattle-handling expertise, a son hooked a chain and extricated Faren and his “mud-buggy” from the pond.
I don’t know what happened to the bull, but I thank Faren for providing another great “Mental Home Video” for this column.
Well, now that I’ve raked a good friend over the humor coals, I’d be a hypocrite if I failed to tell a story about myself.
Last week, I think I may have made medical history. I may be the first person who ever “pea-ed” so much that he got down in the hip and back. Yep, that’s right. But, here’s the story:
When I wuz planting garden, I discovered two large packets of seed peas. One wuz a year old and the other two-years-old. I figgered the seed wuz too old to grow, but I went to one of my wildlife food plots and tilled up about a 30-foot square patch and broadcast the pea seed into it and used the tiller to lightly cover the seed.
Well, much to my surprise, a lot of the seed sprouted and grew like weeds out amongst the weeds. Last week wuz harvest time to I spend a half-hour pulling the pea vines and throwing them in the back of my utility vehicle. The bed wuz heaped up high with pea vines loaded with pods.
So, I took the mess back to the breezy shade of our garage and spent the next three hours pulling the pods from the pea vines. After about two hours, my left hip and lower back began to ache. When I finished the job, I could scarcely walk.
Luckily, I guess, I could shell pea pods with an achy hip and back, so I spent much of the next two days shelling peas. In the end, we ate fresh peas and creamed new potatoes for a couple of meals and ol’ Nevah put about 8-10 pints of frozen peas in the freezer for next winter.
My hip and back is slowly mending and I keep reminding myself that I could have bought a case of canned peas at the grocery store for less than $20. Oh, well, at least the peas we froze are organic and farm fresh. They’ll taste better, too.
And that, my friends, is how I “pea-ed” so much that I crippled myself.
One of our Saffordville Old Boar’s Club members succumbed to an assortment of ailments. For this column, I’ll name him Dee D. Ishwasher. He collected beer signs and made it known that after he passed, he wanted no formal memorial services and that he wanted his ashes buried inside his favorite beer sign. My understanding is that his family is following his wishes. His passing is the “second domino” of our group to fall. We’ll miss him.
I solved a robbery last week, too. My friend Albie Kirky and I stopped at a convenience store in Americus for ice and some other supplies on our way to a fishing spot. After we paid and loaded up, we decided we should get a couple of large iced teas for the road. So I went back into the store to get them.
Well, not surprisingly, I got the drinks, got engaged in conversation with a farmer in the store, and promptly walked out without paying for the drinks. I didn’t realize it until we were several miles up the road.
So, on our return trip, I stopped to make things right. The same clerk wuz behind the counter. I walked in, grinned and told her, “I want to report a robbery.”
Her eyes got wide and she asked, “What robbery?”
I replied, “The one I committed this morning when I walked out without paying for two big drinks.”
She laughed and said she hadn’t noticed my “theft,” but she thanked me for being honest. I ended the conversation by saying, “I’m more forgetful than honest.”
Now, to be honest again, I’m glad this column is written. Have a good ‘un.