Labor day shenanigans

A north wind pummeled trees, filled the air with a smoky haze and scattered swaths. I myself enjoy a good breeze but the smoky scent was enough to make me worry that we had a fire problem again. A fire problem you say?

Well, a little over a week ago hubs really wanted to burn a brush pile in the old pasture. It was like looking at a little kid that just got told he was going to the candy store. He asked what I thought but my words sailed right on by. They were a cautionary tale of it’s dry, the rain is going to miss us and you didn’t disc around the pile.

So like the memes of ‘it’ll be fun they said,’ I got the ‘it’s green, it’ll be fine.’ Hubs had fun with his little pyro project but was disappointed the pile didn’t burn well. (The brush was fresh cut and torn down trees.) Ahh well, so sad but I was happy. The area around the pile was green but dry, that was what I had been worried about. 

Long story short, three days later I’m returning home from errands in town when I see smoke pluming from the general direction of the pasture. Interesting. I’m thinking I’ll change really quick and then check it out. More smoke belches above the corn. I gun my truck around the field and to the pasture. The wind had come up and somehow sparked the rare smoldering ember and now I had a little grass fire. A shovel, buckets of water, inventive French and a phone call to pull hubs from the field and it was out. He arrived, my knight in shining farmer gear on his charger (the gator) and pronounced it not too bad. If looks could sear… I made him put the last lick of flames that was persistently trying to get into the old wind break while I beat out some frustration on the last stretch of smoldering grass. Needless to say, the pile was then disced around under my eagle eyes. Hubs wasn’t winning any awards yet.

 I suggested that next time when wifey had a feeling and pointed out that perhaps it was too dry (it only looked green) maybe heed the suggestion and wait. I just got the look. And I might have come back with the winning serve of #itoldyouso. There was no keeping the lid on those words.

I recovered the next day from all that excitement with bookwork and a cuppa coffee. Nothing says steady on, calm and normal like those two. Perhaps I was plotting my revenge while online… online shopping for shoes to replace the month old pair that had been totaled. My poor kicks weren’t coming back from the char and soot that had been ground into them.

Today was Labor/Labour day and yes we worked. I had the fantastically smart idea to get rid of the sweetcorn in my garden. By hand. Without gloves. Painstakingly pull each one out and, according to the plan, get rid of the then pile. Yeah, I got as far as making the pile. Removing it, not so much. My hands appear to have developed some blisters. Who knew? Clearly I didn’t have enough calluses on my hands. This should make washing dishes in hot water comically funny kind of like a hot potato scenario. Maybe I should remember my gloves next time, well, next year.

However, I was able to help my now-redeemed hubs finish combining our field of edibles. It was almost as good as a date night out for coffee. A golden orange harvest moon came up while the sun drifted off in slumber with a simmering blaze of glory. The wind dramatically chased the dust in a trail behind the combine as we ate up swaths of edibles. Here and there some swaths drifted like sand dunes trailing fingers to the next. Edibles ratcheted and rattled their way across the pickup header and emerged, beautiful shelled pinto beans in the tank.

A cool wind nipped at my face as I walked back to the pickup while hubs drove off under the moon to finish the final half round. It was a gorgeous evening for combining. I wish my camera could have done it justice (cell phone wouldn’t beat a professional camera in this instance).

Pinto beans

Cheers to your shortened work week, may fall sweep in slowly and your yields be bountiful.