Well Hey There and Howdy, Friends.
We're still a bit soggy here on the farm this week, and there are parts of the back 40 where I can't step out of the trusty John Deere lest I find myself sunk up to my kneecaps in mud. Of course, it ain't just mud.
Edna reminded me back in February that we needed to fertilize that plot of land this year and I'd been rather generous on the manure spreading even before the snow had melted. Nothing like pure white snow on a series of wide rolling hills speckled with chunks of bovine scatology. From the air, it must of, sort of looked like a big 'ole serving bowl of chocolate chip ice cream, though there ain't no pleasant vanilla smell associated with the picture, if you know what I mean.
I did need to step off 'ole Mr. Deere to check out a broken fence pole towards the back of the property, but sure enough, sunk down into the nastiness well over my boot line.
It took me over an hour to pry myself out of that position, in fact had to leave my boot behind. The suction held onto that boot like a $30 whore in a down economy, but I was finally able to wiggle my foot and ankle free. Of the mud, I mean.
Edna thought it was funny until I told her how much the boots cost and how it was unlikely I could go back to the Farm & Fleet and ask for another size 11, "Left Only", regardless of how good my story was. She insisted then, that I drag my keester back out there with a shovel and get the damn boot, which by now would have filled up with mud and other less than desirable fillers.
I am a good husband though, and I respect the wishes of my wife, even though it took another 3 hours of digging with my body tied off to the tractor, in order to dig it out. Upon my return she offered to clean the boot for me, so I left it and the 9 pounds of fertilized soil inside of the boot, just outside our back door. She didn't find me all that funny then.
The next day it was a toss up as to who got the last laugh. Edna chose instead to use the boot as a planter. I expect them damn flowers will sprout in half the time, but I got myself a new pair of boots. Heh, heh.
And that's all from Curdsville this week.
Yours quite modestly,
Efrem P. Farnswaggle