Sue's post today led me here, there, and yonder----as is typical when one begins reading from this electronic thing----rather like the mental machinations of a person who's consumed too much caffeine, I think, as I sip from my cup of coffee and contemplate my need for meditation (some might say "medication"), for smoothing the sheets of my mind and tucking in the corners snuggly so nothing too crazy can crawl between with me.
I careened to Kate's blog and was blown away by her writing and photos, and then back again to, well, photos of TRACTORS on Sue's blog, which blasted me back into reminiscing. . .
I learned to drive on a tractor over forty years ago. My dad and grandfather (my mother's dad) both owned a succession of tractors over their lifetimes, and I enjoyed driving each of them, earning money as a pre-teen and teenager by mowing their Louisiana lawns (about five acres around my parent's house, and close to the same around my grandparents' and my aunt and uncle's at $5 each place), singing to my heart's content while simultaneously working on basting and browning my skin in the great oven of Louisiana summer heat. At around three hours per yard, I didn't calculate the hourly rate, only that I'd earned enough to buy three albums from my favorite record store in Baton Rouge.
Music, literature, and nature sustained me then. . . and now, though I can add to this the delights of surprise I feel in connecting with real people (mostly women these days, though) via this machine on my lap.
