10.27.24
The wind woke me up this morning. I already was on that threshold between wakefulness and sleep when the sound of the dried leaves on our grape arbour being tossed in a strong wind brought me to full wakefulness. I lay there for a moment listening to the sound, hearing the next wave of wind approaching from a distance through the tops of the pine trees before hitting the side of the house in another huge gust. A Chinook wind I thought to myself. Yet we have no snow, which one usually associates with such a wind. I could tell we were far from the chilly 35 degrees the weatherman had predicted. Slipping out of bed and coming into the kitchen to get the kettle on the boil, I glanced out the window at the thermometer and indeed it was recording a very balmy 60 degrees! Raindrops are now spattering the front of the house. The rain is welcome, the wind not so much.
This past week was a good one. A week filled with all manner of activities here on the farm. Of course, the daily chores of milking and feeding the animals are standard fare, but there was also the moving of some of the beef cows to new paddocks, reorganizing hay, and our fire truck was dismantled for the season so it can resume its job as a feed truck through the coming winter months. My first batch of Christmas cakes are resting in the pantry – almost all of them spoken for I might add – with more batches soon to follow suit. Then a couple of days ago Darrell and I began the fun chore of starting work on his next automobile project, his 1985 GMC square body truck!
After being used as an all-around farm truck for years, its poor old engine finally decided to give up the ghost. It has sat by the shop for the past couple of years and now that Darrell’s ’51 Chevy has tootled off to its new home in the valley, the shop is open for another project. My Nessie car was in there for a while as I got ready to install her new headliner and back window as well as trying my hand at some bodywork on her here and there. Darrell and I had pulled his old truck into the shop’s lean-to but as the colder weather set in, I decided it was not going to be much fun for him working out there in the cold! Since I am just not going to have much time to devote to Nessie for the next few months, what with soapmaking, cake baking and getting ready for upcoming holiday bazaars etcetera, I decided the truck and Nessie should temporarily swap places.
Nessie is buttoned up for the winter and happily residing in the lean-to while Darrell’s truck is ensconced in the shop where, with a warm fire going in the woodstove, working on him will be so much more pleasant. Yes, I refer to the truck as a “him”. My cars have names, Darrell however does not get quite so whimsical about his project vehicles! So, for a couple of days this week, after morning chores were done, Darrell and I were in the warm shop beginning the process of dismantling the old engine in preparation for pulling it out and popping in a new one.
I really should have taken my camera down and snapped some pictures. After taking the hood off and setting it outside, both of us just stared into the engine compartment at the jumble of wires and hoses and general mess that is typical of this era truck. What with all the smog equipment going every which way, air conditioning lines snaking here and there, leaky power steering hoses and the accumulation of oil and dirt from goodness knows how many years, it was a right mess! Where to start we wondered! Rolling up our sleeves, while I climbed into the engine compartment since I am too short to even stand on blocks and reach in, and Darrell reached in over a fender, the pair of us set to work.
Yesterday I headed into John Day to teach a CPR class to a grand and very diverse group of folks. The ladies in attendance were all neat and tidy, their hands spotless and fingers nicely manicured. Briefly glancing down at my hands as class commenced, I felt a moment of embarrassment, for my hands, despite vigorous scrubbing the night before, still had ingrained vestiges of black in the nooks and crannies of my skin. Then the moment passed. These were hands that told a story. Each scar has its own tale behind it. The wonky finger reminding me of the time while catching a sturdy piglet by the hind leg I inadvertently jammed said finger into a board, bending it backwards. Then there is Mr. Stumpy, always somehow finding a way to stay nice and clean while his neighbouring fingers get black as the ace of spades. The nicks and cuts, short nails, callouses, bumps and scars are nothing to be embarrassed about. These hands tell a story.
As dawn approaches, there will not be any glorious sunrise to see today. Thick grey clouds scud across the sky, and I can see the treetops are still waving briskly. The sound of the wind is more muted now, the erratic gusts have calmed. Soon Darrell will wake up and head into the living room and we will sit for a while, him drinking coffee while I sip on another cup of tea. We will decide what is on the agenda, enjoying a slow start to the day. As I think back on how diverse the activities of the past week have been, from soapmaking to cake baking to dismantling a truck engine, it hits me how blessed I am. Each and every one of the things accomplished this past week are things I absolutely love doing! Yet again I am reminded how grateful I am to have the life I do but most of all, to be able to do those things with my best friend, my dearest by my side.
