…was a good day. Up at 6 a.m. to write for a while, then chores. Tried to start tractor but it wouldn’t. Got a little cranky. Wiggled things, lifted hood, pulled mouse nest from beneath air cleaner, wiggled more things. Tried battery charger. Nothing. Stared futilely. Decided to call mechanic. Called mother-in-law first (she owns tractor). She said check that you don’t have the emergency brake on or something. Yah, right, I thought. Tried tractor one more time, realized I had PTO engaged, which locks ignition. Got tractor started. Moved both chicken coops. Moved fence. Took a timeout to speak with editor about how, um, new book was coming along. Finished moving chickens. Fed pigs. Took car in for service. Worked on new book for three hours while car being serviced. Home and loaded 1951 International pickup with wheat, moved wheat to granary, gave a couple forkfuls to voracious chickens. Split a pile of wood the size of a smallish igloo. Then kissed wife, daughters, ate homegrown greens and homegrown pork chop. Then back to work on book until late. Sometimes you simply can’t explain your good luck so when you finally shut the chickens in* you stand there and look up at a billion stars and whisper, thanks.
*To be absolutely accurate and in the interest of harmony at home, let it be known that last night my wife shut the chickens in.