Over rocks and hills

Last week I wrote about finding contentment in harvest. Each day was a new challenge in finding contentment. It’s not like buying a gallon of milk; you buy it and you have it. Well, turns out it’s a little more challenging when you have to worry about rocks.

There’s this one field that has beautiful rolling hills… and rocks. Well, why don’t we pick them? Actually, I’ve been out there picking more rocks and building character one rock at a time than I care to remember. I’ve smashed the occasional finger when my brain is slow on the draw to tell my hands to release the rock. Somehow these rocks are like raccoons. Always there where you don’t want them and when you relocate them, more are there when you turn around (or return to the field).

I do a lot of ‘raise the head, hit the resume button’ over and over when I’m on the lower downside half of these hills. Of course, I might have gotten caught up in admiring how pretty some of those rocks are… and then about give myself a heart attack when I look right (to area of the header hidden by my monitor) to see I’m this close to scooping a large rock. 

Blue skies and rain spits coming my way

Yeah, those moments aren’t fun. Right at number two to that moment is the time you think you hear a rock rattling in your head and grinding so lightning fast reflexes kick in and flick the switches off while turning down the engine speed. This happened as I was opening up a new field.

Here’s what to do when it’s been a long week, it’s Friday and almost five o’clock.

1)      Completely forget that a few palm-sized rocks like to hide in the baby draw that runs in your first three swaths.

2)      Forge ahead confident in your mad combining skills.

3)      Realize that you’re racing through that baby draw and belatedly be aware of how the head is flexing (or not).

4)      Hear that heart-breaking sound of grinding metal and a rock-like ricochet on metal.

5)      Quick like turn everything off, raise the head and back away cautiously.

6)      Shrug and park the combine to continue moving everything else over.

7)      Resume combining.

8)      Realize that the auger in the header is NOT turning like it should.

9)      The dread sinks in.

10)   Poke around, open the side hatch and see the chain, broken.

11)   Congratulations!  You’ve won an early stop to the day! You broke the chain in not one, not two place but FOUR. And several little links roll away…

Yeah, I can do a really good job sometimes. Now I really appreciate those practically zen-like moments combining fields that don’t have rocks. And when contentment came so much easier.

I do a 'good' job, poor little guy

 May your week be the anti-thesis of rocky, clear skies on your radar and the wind not blow you away.

A photo of French Silk pie because I can & it was delicious