Good morning, folks!
During COVID, I started my weekly Letters from Josh to send to senior friends stuck in locked-down nursing homes. The fun has continued…and here’s this week’s edition:
Letters from Josh
Tractor Time Letter 71 2/28/22
Howdy, folks! I hope you’re well! Josh here with a few stories to entertain you! I’m finally breaking in these overalls so they’re not so store bought fresh. They’ve even got some diesel smoke on ‘em. Last week, I helped the folks spruce up the garden. You would think it simple, but I’m still using a wrist brace. Ouch. You see, there was a ton of gravel to take out, and dirt to replace. “Breaker, breaker, this is Troll Boy back for another load!” I’d yell into my radio as I eased the big orange tractor down the hill. What a sound the diesel made! And the rattle of the windows as it rumbled over the rutted ground! Bob (my stepdad) was digging a ditch with the mini excavator, establishing a dirt mine of sorts. I’d rattle and grind up the hill, turn around, and scoop up a load on the way back. The clutch would confuse me, I kept taking dents out of the dirt road with the tractor bucket, and well, it was harder than it looked. But, practice makes perfect (or, just like my experience with salsa dancing, at least not dangerous and bloody), and the garden looks great. And speaking of heavy equipment, the bulldozer restoration goes slowly, but is moving forward - the engine seems to turn over a bit now! More news to follow. The tree buds are giving the mountain a purplish tint, and I can hear the bluebirds singing as I write this. The past few nights have hosted the Spring Peepers, tiny frogs with a cheerful call. Spring is in its earliest stages here! This weekend saw the construction of a bear fence for the new honeybee hives. Using the tractor again, we drove a million metal posts into the ground, and are stringing it with electric wire. The idea is this: you put nice tasty strips of bacon on the live wires. Ol’ Mr. Bear lumbers off the mountain, and tries to get a snack. Instead, his nose gets zapped, teaching him to avoid the fence. (Hopefully.) It’s a game of psychology, because if he decides to go for the beehives, no electric fence will stop him. We’ve got to get in his head, and make him think it’s dangerous. Forget forest fires. Only we can prevent honey theft. What are the chances that I hit the fence instead? Who wants to bet? (I’ll consider odds.) Speaking of large animals, there are three horses boarding in the front pasture. The two mares are Maria and Smartie, and the poor gelding lost an eye at birth. They call him…One Eyed Jack! They’ve learned I bring treats, so are my buddies now. Until next time, stay strong! - Josh