The phone woke me up at 9:30 yesterday morning. I hadn't slept that late in - I don't know when. The air smelled like bacon. The Husband and Granddaughter #3 had cooked.
Granddaughter #2 was still asleep at 10:30 when her dad called and asked us to have the girls home by noon. They were on their way home with Granddaughter #1 (and two sugar gliders) and would be home around 2. Granddaughter #3 had taken over #1's room and was given instructions to evacuate by the time #1 arrived.
I loaded up all their stuff and took them home. While the girls worked on their rooms, I cleaned up the kitchen and high-tailed it out of there so as not to intrude on the homecoming. On my way home, I discovered two bags in the back seat that had not made it into the house. Turned around, went back, dropped off the stuff, headed home.
There was a lot to do at home. We'd invited everyone for Mother's Day dinner Sunday night. The yard needed mowing (so did Nanny's). The house needed picking up. Vegetable seeds needed planting in the garden while the weather was nice.
The Husband was mowing our yard when I got here, and Son #1 had brought his mower over and was mowing Nanny's yard. I put on my gardening duds and did the weed-eating. The Husband headed for Nanny's yard when he finished. After a little rest on the back porch, I decided to go to the garden and plant the okra, squash, and cucumber seeds. I put on my gardening apron and went to Nanny's.
The plan was also to get The Husband to help me set the tomato stakes with the tractor, but Son #1 was on the tractor, bush-hogging Nanny's front field. I figured The Son would do it when he finished mowing, so I went to the shed to get the tiller, intending to till up rows for my seeds. Gassed it up, cranked it up, and started down the first row. And the tire started to come off before I'd gone five feet. SHIT! I had forgotten about the tire. The bolt that holds it on had come off last year.
By this time, ALLLL of the menfolk on the hill were involved in other chores. The Son was still on the tractor. The Husband and The Brother-in-Law were working on the Cherokee (The Husband intends for us to driving it to Florida soon). I dug around in the big shop and found a screw and a nut that would fit the hole on the tire and managed to tilt the tiller over by myself and put the tire on and get screw in it. The screw lasted for 2.5 rows, during which time I decided that ground was a tad too wet in the middle for tilling. As I headed up the last row, the head broke off of the screw. I limped the tiller to the shop and went to the hardware store to get a sturdy bolt and nut. By the time I got back, The Husband was around to help me get the tire on. I finished off the 1/2 row, put the tiller back in the shed, and waited for The Son to finish with the tractor so that we could set tomato stakes. But after he mowed, he pushed up a pile of brush that had accumulated in the field and set it on fire, which meant he and the tractor had to stay with the fire.
While waiting around, I saw a big pile of brush in Nanny's yard that needed to be on the fire. The Son came up with the tractor and pushed it to the field. The dry sticks left a trail of debris in the yard. I went to the shed and brought rakes for everyone who wasn't busy. We raked the sticks and added them to the fire.
When I took the rakes back to the shed, I tackled a pile of what I thought was wet dogfood in one corner of the shed. I'd been pissed at The Nephew all spring for leaving it there. It turned out to be alfalfa pellets. I'm pretty sure The Nephew didn't put the alfalfa pellets there. I must have done it years ago, thinking I'd sow a cover crop, or something. It was wet and stinky, and there was an open bag of cow manure under it. I raked and shoved it all out the door, onto an unfolded cardboard box, which The Husband dragged away.
It was too late to set the tomato stakes by the time Son #1 came back with the tractor.
We were all too pooped to work anymore, anyway.
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