It is no longer possible for me to deny that there is far more in the rearview mirror than ahead in the windshield. I am determined to spend time wisely. This might be an exercise fraught with failure, as Father John Misty notes in his Dylanesque song, I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All.
When I was younger, rarely did time go by unplanned. I was a project guy, who spent much of my time, when not running a newspaper, on one project or another. That has not changed a great deal. Being co-proprietor of Three Geese Farm means a bevy of tasks constantly await. A thunderstorm sweeping through often brings hours of driving the tractor around, picking up fallen tree limbs, which is what I will do when I get off work Friday. With spring here, fence rows need clearing, fertilizer spread, seed sown. Mowing season will soon commence.
I have a blessed work schedule at the library, which leaves me four days to tackle projects on the farm, starting at noon Friday through noon Tuesday. I generally devise a plan. For instance, little brother Gregg came over recently. As he resurrected the 20-year-old Kawasaki Mule, installing a kill switch and a pair of new headlights to bypass its glitchy electrical system, I painstakingly used snippers to cut several dozen 18-inch pieces of hardware cloth that I planned to attach to the fence around our chicken coop. I did this nearby so I can hand him tools when needed.
Hardware cloth is woven or welded wire, named for being flexible and sold in hardware stores. The term came into use in the 1890. It is actually considerably stronger and thicker than what is commonly called chicken wire. I bought a roll to use as a predator deterrent around the coop’s perimeter. I am folding each piece once snipped into an “L” shape. Next, I attach it to the bottom of the fence around the coop with cable ties. Then I pile crushed limestone rock around the base of the fence, in hopes that predators intending to tunnel beneath to get at the as-yet unacquired chickens will be foiled.
I define this as spending time wisely. It’s admittedly a loose definition.
Gregg successfully got the Mule running, with a few glitches. At one point, on a test drive out in the side pasture down by Witcher Creek, it refused to move either forward or in reverse, though the engine would run. I trudged back to the shop to get the tractor and a strap, and we towed it back to the shop. The problem was easily diagnosed and fixed, and Mule has been running well since. More time spent wisely; little brother’s assistance greatly appreciated.
The following day, I began the final assembly of a large Mission-style Ottoman I have been building out of black walnut, glueing the pieces together with pipe clamps. I also began building a frame for the cast-iron sink my wife bought for $15 at a thrift store. The sink/potting table will be placed behind the new greenhouse, stained the same color, and will provide an ample area for messing with plants – my wife’s true love, after family and critters. Definitely time well spent.
By late Sunday afternoon, I was physically whipped. Sawing lumber, drilling pieces together, wrestling a 75-pound sink into the frame, all took their toll. It was nap time. There is a wicker couch with cushions on the front porch. There are advantages to being of small stature. I love to curl up on that couch and nap while a gentle breeze flaps the flag on the pole nearby, birds chirp and squawk, vehicles whizz by on the country road 100 yards away. I snoozed for an hour.
That was most definitely time well spent.