Well folks it looks as if Indian Summer is moving out, as swiftly as we embraced her warmth. I can't complain about the weather this weekend. We needed the few drops of precipitation that we received.
After days and days, when nary a thimbleful fell from the sky; I welcomed the sprinkling of moisture with an open umbrella! On the downside, I wasn't expecting a toad- strangling downpour, just more than a tease and a taste on my tongue.
Still, this dry situation continues. Conditions are still not favorable for open burning.
It may be by the time you read this more rain will fall.
Last week, Paul was adding the finishing touches on his roof project when he missed the nail and hammered the guide.
He slammed the hand tool down with force on the left ring finger; the cut was deep and quite a bit of bleeding occurred.
Aspirin therapy at work and working can present problems at times like that.
Since the accident happened late in the day, yours truly tended the wound.
Paul promised to check it out at the VA in Indianapolis the next day and he did.
X-rays showed the phalanges of the finger survived the blow unbroken. He receive a tetanus shot.
Since the injured waited until the next day to seek professional help, the doctor on duty decided against suturing the end of short thick digit. However, the deeply embedded roof cement was of concern and addressed.
The pharmacy filled the prescription for an antibiotic, ointment and dressings, and we headed home -- two tired seniors and a big partially numb bum finger pointing toward the roof of the car.
Now we don't slow down much or ask too many people for help out here. If one of us, for any reason, such as illness or injury, needs help, the other will take charge.
We needed to cut a friend three loads of firewood. Paul is the woodcutter and I am the splitter.
However, he could certainly not operate a chainsaw with that battered, cut up and bruised finger pointing toward the sky. I could not stand a possible fall-out, either!
Cold weather is fast approaching and I wanted to take the opportunity to honor the request for the wood.
I donned my work clothes, dug out my pink and white sun visor, adjusted it over my pink sponge curlers, slapped on some pale pink lip gloss, cool sunglasses and laced up my dirty white tennis shoes. Then, looking like Nadine's sister, I blew Tootie Mae a kiss and more, outside I flew with the enthusiasm of a spring chicken.
I would work from two pre-cut piles of well-seasoned hardwood, that Paul cut into short lengths, two years ago.
I serviced the log splitter. During a brief inspection of the machine that I planned to work with, I came across a couple of loose anchor bolts on the base of the motor.
I pulled the wrenches out of my hip pocket and kneeled down to access my work. As I did, this nut hit her forehead so hard on the motor mount of that big red working machine; the visor kissed the leaf cluttered earth and stars shone brighter than bright, in the daylight. It was a staggering experience.
A woodpecker, high in the locust tree that towers over the work station, saw the entire thing. I did an about-face to see if anyone other than the bird and me saw anything.
I multi-task, therefore; my day can never be devoted to one project, only.
However, this old country girl, enjoyed working with the wood last week.
I found myself singing every old hymn that I know and I talked to God. I went a lot of places the two afternoons that it took to finish preparing the three truckloads for pickup, traveling on that piece of log that I sat on. I must say, I enjoyed the trip and did not spend a dime.
I thought about all the kindling wood that my late brother, John Wayne and I split with axes and hatchet when we were kids. Any wood would do in our Heatrola and the kitchen range, old new and weathered, too.
Brazil Block coal ruled the grates and the wood did the smaller tasks like building up the fire on cold mornings when the flame reduced to embers overnight ,or worse; ice formed in the water pail on the wet sink and the jacket on the stoves were cold.
Orange crate slats broke easily beneath a shoe, while each waited our turn at the tools.
Then, we collected the tiny shiny nails in a nicked green quart Mason jar. These slender pegs were worthy of a million uses. I am sure our dad knew most of them.
Last night, tired from doing the splits, this old setting hen dropped dead in the nest.
Today the doctor picked up his wood. He was pleased. Paul returned to the roof and wrapped up his work. He then went to work at Sears. Tonight was " Family and Friends."
I cooked a delicious evening meal that awaits the sales associate. I sure hope he is not too tired after dinner, because Tootie pulled down the rose covered comforter on his side of the bed, placed her head on his pillow, covered up and is sawing logs.
Mom snapped her with the camera.
Tomorrow is another day - we celebrate 53 years of marriage. The woodchuck will do the wood chucking, because I saved the curls and will re- dress the finger; we have other fish to fry!
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.