Chores

The ground is frozen so feeding hay is much cleaner.

I have a friend named John who can change the oil in a 1987 Ford Bronco in a white dress shirt and not get a drop of oil on it or on him. That is not me.

I cannot walk within twenty feet of the tractor without getting mud and other brown, sticky substances on my trousers and shirt.

The flip side of the ground being frozen is the cattle had been drinking out of a pit that had filled with water. Well, now it is ice. The challenge went from getting hay to the critters without cutting the pasture to ribbons to getting them water.

I also saw that I outsmarted myself. I was in a hurry and was careless when studying what kinds of grass seed that are most appropriate to repair the torn up areas in the pasture. More details, later.

Finally, I went into town today to bathe dad. He slept until 11:30. He consented to letting me wash his face and hands. I will wash his private parts tomorrow.

He was in a peaceful state. He is ready to go and waiting for others to accept the inevitable.

He has become quite chatty.

I shared with him that I thought of his current state of life as being similar to springtime. Every spring he would itching to get out to "the cabin" and make it comfortable for the family to visit during the summer. He went to work and did his job, but he spent the weekends at the cabin and his heart and his mind were always at the cabin.

And now, more than half of "him" is up in heaven, getting the linoleum mopped, the cobwebs cleared out of the corners and the rust run out of the water pipes. He is getting the mansion-with-many-rooms ready for the rest of us, itching for the official start of summer.

He is waiting because it is not quite time. Yet.