I’m trying to stay focused and hurry to cross chores off my long list before winter. Our nights have been in the 20s and they’re now calling for snow at the end of the week.
At least I got the winter rye sown in time. The days of cranking in the mud paid off. I had a wave of happiness looking at the big pale green field last evening before sunset. Not all of the seed germinated before frost, but enough. It should come back in the spring.
Those acres were logged exactly a year ago. I remember sitting in the truck eating lunch with Allen in the rain, watching the loggers, both of us envisioning how the land would look cleared and in grass.
I know he would be pleased for me.