From the tractor manual:
“Do not start the engine or attempt to drive or operate the tractor until you are fully accustomed to all the controls. It is too late to learn once the tractor is moving.”
Hunh.
Where did this creekbank come from? Has it been there all along?
Where did these men come from? I don’t care. They’re springing into action.
Hooking up a chain.
Pulling the tractor off the creekbank where it’s stuck in the mud.
And riding away.
Whew.
I think somebody else should finish mowing the meadow.
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What’s up with that??
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The tractor store delivered our bright red tractor to my cousin’s farm, saving them the last two-and-a-half miles up our rocky road.
I brought Coco over to the old farmhouse with me. She likes riding in the car. She likes the tractor, too.
My cousin came home and found a shiny new tractor sitting in front of his barn, along with his hobby ambulance and VW bug (he likes to play with old vehicles), and he said, “I thought I had the greatest wife in the world.” It wasn’t even his birthday! Then he found out it wasn’t for him.
“It’s for me!” Coco decided.
“Seriously, where’s the key?”
“What about me?” my cousin’s dog, Flash, wanted to know.
“Don’t I get to drive it?”
Noooooo….. I had to disappoint Coco, too.
A quick study, she learned this hangdog expression from Flash.
Then we got some contraption hooked onto the back of it that we borrowed from my cousin, and Georgia drove it home for me.
Okay, not really, 52 drove it home for me.
The wild meadow on our farm sighed in anticipation.
Let the mowing begin!
Just, you know, like, not by me….. I gotta go make some biscuits or somethin’……
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The blackberries are coming on!
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