Around the Farm

There was a tragedy on the farm this week. Afro, the Duck, is missing and presumed dead. There are varmits in the woods around here. Two ducks survived from the original dozen that Tinker purchased a couple of years ago. Afro was a big duck. He got his name by virtue of a tuff of feathers on top of his head that gave him a distinctly Stokley Carmichael look when the light hit him just right. If there is anything I have learned about ducks it is that they are creatures of precision. Every morning about half an hour after first light, the ducks are at the back door demanding their morning ration of corn. Then, about 4pm at the height of summer and varying depending on the sunlight, they are back for an afternoon snack. His absence on Thursday morning told me immediately that he was no longer with us. My heart goes out to the last duck standing. We've never had a name for him so I guess No Name Duck fits well. Farwell, Afro. You were a good duck and we will miss you.

In minor tragedies, I ran over two trees that I had intended to nurture. The first was a struggling magnolia. The second was an aspiring pin oak. In both cases, I ran over them with the tractor and bushhog. A PhD in political science does not necessarily equip one to drive a tractor.

On the more joyful side of things, one of the daily delights I enjoy is Daisy's swim. In the mid-afternoon, Daisy, the overweight Golden Retreiver that my reprebate nephew dropped off on my brother after he grew tired of her, nugs me toward the lake for her afternoon swim. Poor thing suffers from all sorts of ailments and the swimming lets her move without having to suffer the pain of carrying all of her sigificant weight. Here is a picture of her paddling away. You know that it has to feel good for her. I am more than happy to sit on the bank and yell encouragement to her which she seems to need. What I have noticed is that unless I am watching her, she will not swim.



Of note is that the picture on the Welch Super Service is of my garden and was taken today. It has produced well and I have learned much about what to grow and what to avoid. Next year will be even more productive.

My Aunt June and Uncle Cooper visited this afternoon. It was good to see them. To put things in perspective. Cooper is the brother of the Blessed Saint Rebecca. He is disabled having suffered a stroke a decade ago. Uncle Cooper bought the farm after my Grandmother Perry (the Blessed's mother). He sold it to Tinker. I bought it from Tinker. Now we have everybody straightened out.

I spent the day weed-eating and mowing the lake. It takes a full day to do it all. But it is certainly worth it when done.

I talked to WitchWoman today. She had a cadre of folks in to move stuff around within the house. As I mentioned, she accumulates. Stuff sticks to her. The Joplin Tornado brought all of this to the fore since most of our efforts in the week after the storm was to recover her treasures. It is tought to drag around all that stuff. My plan is to drive to Joplin next Wednesday. My hope is to convince WitchWoman to come to Alabama to visit me. It would be good for her to get out of Joplin for a while. Living with disaster can wear on a persosn.

It was just a routine day on the farm.