Grand Mobileness!

Well, this will be my first ever blog post from the road. We have been on the road non stop since this morning with a few brief breaks at home and for fun along the way. And I have the biggest most exciting news! Seriously, and not in my traditional snark-castic  sense of the phrase, I can hardly contain myself.

This morning, we made an appointment to ride about 45 minutes to our sheep farmer friend’s place to pick up another round bale for our hoofed eating machines. Of course, an excuse to visit and see all the beautiful new spring babies was bonus material. Ry got to discover brand new (Like, last night or today brand new) goat triplets napping under a feeder in the barn, and see all of Radar’s (the lamb) half brothers and sisters romping around. It was a big hit, even if there were no new orphans for us to pick up.

A stop on the way home at a park and river along the way to break up the ride, did a little fish activity recon, (and a stop at our favorite pizza place for a late lunch that we’re rarely ever near anymore) and we dropped our pitiful workhorse of a flatbed trailer off at home.

 

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Why, yes, I AM aware of what a sorry excuse for a trailer that is. It’s become a game of sorts to count the stares on our trips, and we bet now on whether or not it will bear the next load. Yes, there is a legal tag on that thing. Welcome to Delaware.  

 

 

In our travels, we stopped to look at a tractor on the roadside for sale. We called the number and spoke to the nice fella.  It was way beyond our budget. Oh, well. Besides, we just had our old Ferguson heap hauled home this week as the gentleman we took it to nearly a year ago to be fixed has been unsuccessful. Or possibly overwhelmed by her loveliness. Or possibly just completely unwilling to tackle the old broad in all her rusty glory, because….well, he could probably earn a master’s degree or circumnavigate the globe in the time it would take to make her act like a tractor again. We have now planned to take it to a tinkering tractor savvy neighbor who’s quite sure he can have her running before spring. Frankly, I don’t have much hope. Here’s the Old Ferg, below,  (brace yourself, now,  for beholding the sight of this lovely lady) who has been the recipient of much impolitely phrased venomously unholy wrath  (and possibly an occasional kick ) from me.  Seeing as how she’s only seen fit to run for a total of less than an hour in the last six years and all, I have minimal guilt about that.

 

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The Ferg-Beast. It’s the politest name I have for her, but not the only one. 

 

I know, she’s a real beaut, right?

Well, then T let the news slip. He’s taken the day off tomorrow so we can road trip again to possibly pick up the Ferg beast’s replacement!!!! Like, one that runs! For really and truly! You turn the key and the toggles and switches and whatchamawhoseits and it starts. You move levers and pedals and shifters and… It does tractor-y things! It moves without the aid of three winches and several draft horses and a couple of teenagers. Things it was actually built for and meant to do – pushing and pulling and tilling and grading and mowing and whacking and posthole digging…Sweet. Baby. Jesus.

My SIX SOLID YEARS of relentless (In no particular order) gentle loving hinting, requesting, begging, pleading, wheedling, whining, cajoling, bribery, blackmail, nagging and witching with a capital B have finally paid off?  Was it that last exorcism style temper fit where I nearly stomped a hole in the floor and growled in a foreign tongue and my head spun around and I scared myself, not to mention any witnesses? (Nope, not really, but I thought about it. A lot. A really, really lot. ) Can this be real? Holy guacamole, I need to go buy a lottery ticket. Or wake up. Something. Please let this not be a joke.

Seriously, love of my life…is this is your twisted notion of a joke, you may not want to go to sleep again. Evvvveeerrrr….don’t do that to me. You may wake up with one eyebrow. Or none. Or worse. I’ve watched Orange is the New Black. I may put things in a sock and beat you.

Please tell me I am not on an episode of Punked.

I’m literally so excited I could scream, maybe I did. I might have even peed a little had I not just taken care of that hovering in the god-awful park port-a-john. Ryan’s doing the happy dance in the back seat.  So, I’m probably not sleeping tonight. I’ll likely be up, showered, coffeed and dressed long before my customary 5 am. Like, now. Now is good. Can we leave now? Be there when they open? Can my perfect attendance since pre-K except for one day 8 year old skip school? Someone may get there before we do. I simply cannot have that.

So, if you’re a praying sort, please keep me in yours, if not, well, then, good vibes, positive thoughts, sage, crystals, whatever your bag is…I’m very un-judge-y. I’ll gladly accept any and all positivity and hopefully tomorrow will see us bring home a functional (new to us) new mechanical ACTUAL honest to goodness farm implement with whatever attached trappings we can negotiate (wheedle) out of the dealer. I have a spare kidney. I really need a bush hog. This could get real.   (Then I can borrow a chainsaw and lumberjack our 2 ton disc out of the two acre wood that has grown around out in the last six years!!)

Ohmygosh, my mind has reeled all day, like a browser with 2,973 tabs open. I confess to you now, in six years, we have literally and callously murdered 5 riding mowers,  a sickle bar mower, 8 push mowers,  a dozen weed whackers and assorted other mechanical cutting , threshing, and tilling machines, including three Roto tillers, all trying to do the work of one tractor. You cannot possibly understand the level of joy and relief this could mean. A Craftsman yard machine is not a bush hog, nor is it designed to willingly navigate muddy hoof churned, equine land mined terrain. They just simply quit. Give up and die. I don’t really blame them. We are merciless and horrible, and ask things of a machine that will drive it off the cliff of mechanical suicide. Goodbye cruel world! I so wish I was kidding.

So we made our final stop, to drop off my only grandson’s birthday gifts, he turned two yesterday…

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He has 5 co grandbabies and two siblings, but they are every single one girls. 🙂 Poor little dude, he’s swimming in the estrogen ocean. His uncle Ryan there is the sole manchild in his circle.

Had to make a fast emergency tenant stop and are just now finally on our way home, where I will try in vain to sleep till tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me! Have a wonderful night all!

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Author: The Fun E Farm

We're a family in a tiny map dot called Frankford, DE, on 8 acres. I read waaaay too many homesteading books and articles and my heart's definitely in the right place, although it's not always commensurate with the ages old battle between the ambitions of a mere human versus the time on one's hands and the capabilities they possess. This blog is designed to chronicle our search for sustainability and sanity (which I'm not quite sure we ever possessed to begin with), working with what we have and whatever else we can put our broke-ass hands on. Now the disclaimers: If things that happen on a farm offend you, (i.e. POOP, the use of food animals for (gasp) food, birth, death, hunting, fishing, the occasional use of colorful (to put it politely) language, the participation of tiny humans in all of the above) well, then, suffice it to say, this may not be the place for you to spend any leisure time. This blog is not intended to be an instructional tool on how to do things correctly. More often, I can assure you, it will be more of a shining example of the "stuff we tried that was an epic failure of disastrous and occasionally comedic proportions" variety. If you haven't clicked the little "x" at the top right yet, read on, brave soul! Welcome to our crazy family!

4 thoughts on “Grand Mobileness!”

  1. Getting a new tractor is so EXCITING! I got a little John Deere with a bush hog attachment and a gravel road leveler…it’s a front end loader too. I don’t farm, but live in the woods between one ridge and another and have some fruit trees. I drive a 12 year old beater Subaru but by golly I got a new (0% interest) tractor!

    Liked by 1 person

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