Summer Days

Summer has set in on the farm.  The days are long and hot with not a lot going on.  The tobacco is set and now we spend a lot of time just watching it grow.  The wet weather has created some problems like stem rot and we're seeing some black shank.  Both are diseases that can cause severe problems.  So far it's just at the watch and wait stage.  The hay is cut and now hubby is bush-hogging off the pastures to clean up and stimulate the grass growth.

The grandsons have been spending a lot of time hanging out on the farm.  So once again I am hearing the sound of laughter as the little boys busily dig around the base of the old maple tree.  The grass will grow back but the memories of farming in the dirt will last forever.  Some of the toys they have drug out are left from the days of their father's childhood.  They don't make toys like that now.  The old metal Tonka trucks and bulldozers are still doing a hard days hauling and digging.  They even had some old metal toy tractors, plows and planters, also their dad's.  The new ones we bought last summer have long since been broken and thrown away.  Progress isn't always better.

It's been really hot, so I caved and brought out the water guns and water balloons.  Some basic rules: 1.  You cannot get grandma wet.  2.  You cannot spray the windows I just washed  (good luck with that one) 3.  No running into the house to hide and drip all over my floors.  4.  No whining.  5.  About anything else is legal.  The porch was awash with water and the fight was on within minutes.  Shrieks and shouts filled the air. 

About this time my son wandered into the house to check on the survival rate (theirs or mine).  "Who were the men in the gray truck?" he asked.  I shrugged, "What truck?  I haven't seen anyone.  The only time the dog barked is when you came in."  (The dog always assumes my son is the bad guy!)  It seems that the boys had reported that two men had arrived at the farm to look at some bulls.  After waving to the boys they checked out the cattle in the front field and drove off. 

"Why on earth" I mused "would they not come to the house?  They saw the boys playing.  They had to know someone was in the house!"  My son looked at the wet porch, spraying water hose, and the furious water battle taking place on the sidewalk and slowly grinned.  "Are you kidding?  They would have been walking targets in the middle of that onslaught!"

I looked around, laughed, and quickly slammed the door before we became targets, too.