There's not a lot of drama that goes down on the farm. Not unless you consider goats eating pansies and tractor tires going flat to be drama.
I really don't like a lot of drama. There are two teenagers living in my house so I get my fill of drama just by their stories of high-school angst. Sometimes I want to cry for them, being a teenager is tough. I like to watch Oprah and watch other people's drama, but I really don't want it in my life. Although, sometimes I get bored and a little bit of drama can be fun.
We are all pretty unseasoned when it comes to gardening but have decided that we all need to learn how to grow our own vegetables and be a little more "green". You know, in case the democrats take over the country. One of our gardening neighbors came out a couple of weeks ago and gave us a crash-course in gardening, even going as far as telling us what some of that equipment (that we own... that lives on our farm) is used for. Sad, isn't it?
So, about a week ago, Dad ordered a new roto-tiller. Our old one pooped out on us and was irreparable. There was quite a bit of research that went into the decision and much excitement surrounding the final purchase. I told you, things just don't get much more exciting than this.
Then, today, the big day was upon us. The tiller was coming, it was on it's way. My brain automatically started playing "The Wells Fargo Wagon" song.
The freight company that was delivering the tiller had been in contact with Dad a few times to try and pinpoint a delivery time and finalize the directions to the farm.
There was question of whether or not that big ol' truck could make it down our road, across the bridge, and through the woods. City folks! I guess they were afraid they might get abducted by hillbilly's or eaten by a bear. Dad reassured them, log trucks, feed trucks, chicken trucks and the like, make their way out here quite frequently.
They were apprehensive but began their trek out to siberia.
We had all been on the phone with each other several times. Dad calling Rodney to make sure he could be there with the tractor to unload the tiller, Rodney calling me to tell me the tiller was on the way, Mom calling me to see if I knew where Dad was because apparently he was so excited that he couldn't keep still.
Then, this is when all the drama happened. The freight company made a very ugly phone call to my mother (because Dad was still MIA) and informed her that the truck driver was stuck down at the bridge because a log truck had driven OFF the bridge and was blocking the road. Of all days! Seriously? The poor truck driver was stuck, unable to cross the bridge, unable to back up or turn around.
Me and Taylor went to get Mom, find Dad, and head to the bridge to assess the situation.
I'm very sorry to report that by the time we got to our neighbors house, the ones that live just before you get to the bridge, we were met by our neighbor and told that the bridge was clear and the freight truck was on the way.
I wanted to see some destruction. I wanted at least some logs in the river or something! The drive down there was full of anticipation. Oh, what were we going to see?? And HOW did that log truck driver go off the bridge? and WHY did he have to do it right before out tiller was trying to cross it?
But, nope...the tiller made it to the farm without us even getting to see a hint of devastation.
Rodney and I were making faces at each other as he unloaded the precious cargo, relishing the silliness of it all.
Dad was like a kid in a candy store.
He's cute ain't he?
I just hope he's careful using that thing. And, I hope, he lets me play with it sometime.