Playing for Time

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Odd summer so far, blowing hot and cold, perpetually cloudy with storm threats, or blazing blue skies hanging in without relief. Which is to say that it’s Kansas in July when all bets are off. It can get very warm here in the summertime, but…

Or Texas, or the Sahara…

Not much shaking here. Still opening a box once in a while and doing the “keep, toss, give” routine. Down to maybe four boxes, so I’m pacing myself now, because you should always keep a little something back for when you feel a need to procrastinate. Things I’ve learned about STUFF:

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We’ve already passed the middle of July, so yet another Kansas wheat harvest took place without my notice, which means this farm girl is slipping. Slipping the traces and living the life in front of her. I love how we get to live more than one life as we move from birth to death, each one a complete or unfinished package with lessons attached. The pic below was taken in the late 1990s, maybe twenty-five years ago, when a pair of Roper boots, some faded denim, and a tank top would take me through a fifteen-hour day on “my” combine, day after day until everything was in the bin. There are things about it I miss: the productive solitude, the wildlife in the fields and tree lines, the scent of fresh-turned earth, just-harvested grain, rain in the air, being at the center of something vital and needed. There are things I do NOT miss, and some of those would be fifteen-to- eighteen-hour days that started before dawn, never enough sleep, being cook, field hand, parts runner, laundress, bookkeeper, therapist, and a pile of other seed caps that fit from one hour to the next. A lot of the details would slide from conscious memory without a photo now and then…

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While I was revisiting my farming days, another memory came to mind:

I backed out of the garage one morning to go to work, noticed something large to my immediate left, and found myself making eye contact with a good-sized cougar sitting on his haunches next to the driveway. We looked at each other in wide-eyed wonder for a beat or two before he casually turned and sauntered toward the cattle pens north of the house. I called the farmer on the radio, he slipped out the side door and into the car, and we cruised along the road while Mr. Mountain Lion slowly padded next to the fence line, rarely breaking eye contact, before ducking into high weeds and disappearing. He was likely a bold young turk, looking for a mate far from his Colorado stomping grounds, and was the only one of his kind spotted in my 35 years on that farm. There were herds of deer, coyotes, wild turkeys, abundant rattlesnakes, and a mama bobcat who spent two consecutive winters in our old washhouse raising her kits, but that silky cougar was a one-off and I’ll never forget him.

NOTE: With a less than 15% chance of rain in the forecast for this morning, it’s coming down in buckets, with soft hail mixed in, and the temp is 75°. Enjoy your Tuesday, whatever the weather gods have in store!