You ever have one of those months that just needs to end? Yeah, that was February for me.
If it had been a leap year, that would’ve meant one more day of this muddy mess, and let me tell you—I don’t think I could’ve handled it. The sheep are all bedded up nicely in their shelters, but the farmer? Not so much. It’s been nothing but slop, slush, and sinking into the ground this week.
Finally, I decided enough was enough. I’ve been putting off ordering gravel for years because, let’s be honest, it’s not the most exciting farm expense. But lately, lamb sales have been going well, and I figured, why not? So, I bit the bullet—ordered five semi-loads of gravel—and as a few loads rolled in, I fired up my old skid steer and got to work leveling it out. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t knee-deep in mud and had a smile on my face.
Then, as if February wanted one last laugh at my expense, the skid steer made a funny noise. And by funny, I mean catastrophic.
I hopped out to investigate and was greeted by oil spraying violently out of the dipstick hole. That’s never a good sign. A call went out to our son Ezdon, the ag mechanic, and within a few hours, the engine was completely out of the machine, awaiting either a rebuild or replacement. Meanwhile, today the gravel trucks are still rolling in, the sheep still need feeding, and here I am—searching for an engine, dealing with the the yet to be graveled mud, and trying to get this newsletter written.
But hey, at least it wasn’t a leap year. I don’t think I could’ve handled an extra day of this nonsense. So good riddance, February—don’t let the barn door hit you on the way out.
Farmer Rod
