This past week we have had to pull things inside or at least under cover a few time because of threatening weather. Monday night after we had things like solar lights and flower pots under cover, I went outside to pick a few odds and ends from the garden. I am so enamored with my zinnias that I just had to take a few inside incase of very bad weather. Fortunately the weather turned out to be wet with lots of lightning and a little wind. Of course cutting some of the zinnias doesn’t hurt. I keep reading that cutting flowers makes them produce more. Hopefully that is the case. Oh yes, and today I noticed another bud on the rose bush. Perhaps cutting those was a good thing.
It seems that lately every post is either a Sunday morning message or news about bad weather. Really it has been hot and dry mostly except the past few days we have had some rain. This is a strange time of year in our part of the country. We are at the beginning of small grain (wheat, oats, barley) harvest, but the row crops (corn, sunflowers, soybeans and such) need the moisture. Back in the golden olden days when I was growing up, the farmers in this area stuck pretty tightly to only small grains and hay. The corn that was planted was used for silage and feeding animals. There was no such thing as combining the corn and sunflowers were something that grew in a distant area. Of course my father was not one to branch out into something different. He stayed with the tried and true. One year he had a stand of flax that was so beautiful it seemed like you were looking out over the ocean. My uncle said that the price of flax was through the roof that year and if he would have combined it, he could have made quite a good amount of money. I guess there was also a risk with combining it, so he cut it and used it for something else. I am not sure what, but it seems to me that he was never interested in taking those types of chances, yet he took silly chances with other things.
I shouldn’t say silly, I should say dangerous. He was one to grab a piece of equipment before it stopped. On day he came running into the house with his middle finger dangling by what looked to me by the outer skin. When all was said and done the local Dr. stitched him up and the finger stayed on. He also had his hand in the chopper one autumn and the hired hand, who didn’t turn off the tractor, let go of the clutch at the wrong time, and it nearly cut the palm of his right hand off. Again the same Dr. stitched him up, and it worked fine. Well, I shouldn’t say fine, the hand worked, but it was always cold faster, and he could tell when a storm was coming. I guess sort of like my ankle that was broken. One last story. It was the lawn mower that finally took off his ring finger. Words of wisdom: Do not try to unplug the grass from the bottom of the mower until the blade is fully stopped.