This is my happy farmer. As I was leaving here, I stopped to catch a picture. Brad thought I wanted to tell him something so he started running towards the pick up, but then he realized I was taking a picture and tried to run out of it. He didn’t make it.
See all those clouds? We think we’re experiencing what it might be like to live in Seattle. Brad didn’t fuel the sprayer up all the way today because he believed the forecast when it said it would be raining by 10am. He called me at 9 to see if I could bring him some fuel so he could keep spraying instead of having to drive for 40 miles to the gas station.
Let me tell you I wasn’t too eager to say yes. Whatever this involved didn’t really go with my schedule, but I grumpily obliged. I dislike the reminder that his time is more valuable than mine and that I’m not as happy of a helper as I should be. Many a wife of a farmer is often blessed with this humbling reminder.
If I would’ve had to hook to fuel trailer I wouldn’t have even tried to say I would help, but filling red jugs with diesel was what I had to do. He had three empty, but he thought one more would be best. That one more was full of regular gas that I got to pour into one of his pick ups. Wyatt tried to capture this – a photographer in the making.
I then went to fill these four jugs with diesel at the gas station. I got two done, couldn’t get the lid off of the third, so I moved onto the fourth. Then I see liquid starting to drip off the tailgate!!! What am I supposed to do with that?! Brad had specifically said to make sure to not get diesel on me since it’s the stinky stuff. We’re on a first name basis with the employees here so I ran into the tire shop and pleaded for help. The man I later paid with some frosted cinnamon rolls got the lid off the third jug and poured what was in the leaking fourth into the third. He got diesel all over himself and cleaned up my mess. I remained unsmelly.
Liza was unimpressed with being stuck in her carseat.
I was so flustered and in a hurry that I didn’t even think to finish filling the third jug the rest of the way. All that effort to get four jugs of fuel, and he only got 2 1/2.
It was enough because it was a downpour where he was at by 2:30.
He had to have his skinny tires put back on the sprayer today. He’s in mourning over it.