That may be so. I think we’ve had some pioneers in the family. But were they truly primogenitors?
Somehow, that just doesn’t sound right.
Anyway, we keep occasionally practicing at the country living thing.
Last year we lived on a farm where a feral cat kept entering the basement through a hole or something, and horses routinely walked right past the front door while doing their due diligence, which is easy to step in if you’re not careful.
Walking in the pitch-black night on my current country road, I’m once again worried about being waylaid by serial killers hanging out in the ditches or the nearby woods.
I just know they’re out there. Maybe they’ll miss me if I just walk really, really softly.
There must be some wet, cold, miserable, seriously disappointed serial killers out there, who would’ve sworn they saw a potential victim sneak past.
It has been about three weeks since the septic system alarm went off early one morning at our place - WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP! - giving all three of us heart attacks.
The alarm apparently goes off when the septic thing is full. Or maybe just when it’s feeling impish. I am on high alert.
It has been nearly 14 years since we actually climbed on a real tractor and drove it and did not die.
We were part of the second-annual Chris Frenz KGLO Tractor Ride, which took us from Mason City to Rock Falls and Grafton in the north Iowa countryside.
It was nice, once we figured out specifics behind my 1958 John Deere Something Something. I think it was a 320. Not very big – but towering for a first-time tractor driver.
We were off. Driving a tractor! Very exciting.
Then I tried to shift, figuring you shifted a 1958 John Deere Maybe 320 just like you would my ’96 Ford pickup truck.
The poor tractor immediately said, quote: “GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA!!!!”
The guy next to me quickly urged me to stop. And then shift. Ahhh. Works much better that way. You could almost hear the poor tractor sigh and shake its head.
Anyway, we thundered on out, more than 230 tractors strong, for the Salute to Agriculture.
People lined the route and waved at us and encouraged us. It felt like it must feel if they honored tractor drivers motoring through New York City’s Canyon of Heroes, without all the confetti, and with about 2.6 million fewer people.
“This is America,” said a fellow rider, Max Folkerts of Allison, Iowa. “This is the Heartland. This is what it’s all about.”
Warning: We are liking the country more and more.
We could be here to stay, septic thing and serial killers be danged.