One of the questions this year has been, will we get an early frost? With all the rain we have had, everything has stayed so green. We got our answer the other night, but it didn't really show up for a few days. Just a week ago, when Bruce and I were baling hay, the beans across the pasture were green as the pasture, not any more.
Bruce was ready to chop silage for winter feed, since I was not infirm-ed, he drafted me to help rather than call Grassey and Mike. Have I ever told you he can be a bit stubborn - self sufficient? I'm not sure he would have called if I hadn't been there but after 22 years, I kind of know him. At first he babied me, didn't want me hooking up the wagons which made me feel cherished and cared for, but then it just ticked me off. I know now that I'm not having a heart attack or have a blood clot, it's just some sore muscles and I've had them before. We got a good routine down, Bruce would chop four loads and I kept him supplied with wagons.
You can tell he doesn't plant with GPS!
Then we hauled the wagons to the house to unload, I drove and had to reacquaint myself with his hand signals.
Finger pointing forward - GO.
Hand up - STOP
Finger winding in a circle - MOVE!
(Not drive in a circle as Janet did once, I'd been in big trouble as I was on top of the growing mountain of silage!)
Middle finger up - oh we won't even go there! (Seriously, that never happened.)
By this evening we had quite a pile, we should get another good day tomorrow and about have it done. While I was gone on one trip this morning, a good fairy brought us dinner, yesterday Rosanne made a special trip up here with chicken and noodles. People are just so kind.
I've really beat myself up since yesterday, I would have had a treatment behind me. But the nurses always stressed that I report anything out of the ordinary, This port has three little knobs on it and it's under the skin in my upper chest which is still fairly tight. Everytime I move the skin rubs and it's very irritating. Now if they could only have put it in my developing jowls, or under my arm wings, I probably wouldn't even notice. Speaking of the port, they actually sent home a needle and tubing with me, under what circumstance would I inject anything into it? Shouldn't that be left to a professional? Was that souvenir from the surgery? Like the time Rosanne had her appendix out and she brought it home in a bottle?
Working all day today has been good for me, I keep reminding myself to quit looking back. I'm sure you have all heard the saying:
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