SAY, SINCE YOU'RE HERE, WOULD YOU MIND HELPING ME . . .

I have a theory that retired people lose a sense of what a day’s work looks like. Mike does way too much. I, on the other hand, struggle to find a schedule. 

We came to the farm Tuesday morning, and in the three days we have been here, Mike has cleaned out the shed, serviced the riding mower, mowed the lawn, washed windows, patched flicker holes in the house, removed the dilapidated bridge from the pond, sprayed weeds, checked trees. I’ve been moving at a slower pace with the housework. And when Mike needs a helper, I assist. I helped him re-install the pump into the windmill, but it’s more than the two of us can do to lift it. Let’s see – who can we get to help us?

Wednesday the estimator from a siding company in Lewiston drove out to give us an estimate on facing the old wood with metal. So, as he was preparing to leave, Mike casually asked him if he would mind helping lift the windmill. “Glad to,” he said -- this from a guy who had told us the company no longer allows him to climb ladders due to his physical condition. No problem, though. With me pulling a rope and the two of them pushing, we had that windmill upright and operational in no time.

 

Operational did I say? As the wind began to blow a little harder, Mike realized the windmill still has a problem. “I’ve got to take it back down before it tears itself up!” Mike said. No problem, though. The next person to arrive was a tech from Clearwater Power, a super-friendly guy who came to fix our Wild Blue dish so that we might have internet service. At least he thought that was why he had come. He quickly assessed the internet problem, changed out a part on our dish and then readily agreed to help Mike tilt the windmill back to its garbage can support before he left. 

Today dawned bright and lovely. I hung the feeders and the hummingbirds began to visit. I prepared the raised bed garden with compost and Mike tilled it with my mother’s old electric tiller. Then I planted peas, radishes, and spinach while the old nursery rhyme, “Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow” played through my head. I hope it’s not too late to have planted the cool-weather produce. Mike says not a chance. Oh, and I also threw in some zucchini and yellow squash seeds just to see what happens. KW