More, or more.

I started picking corn on the farm north of I-80 yesterday. I never picked any corn on Veterans’ Day. I never even screwed any corn into a bin. It took almost all day to empty the wagons into the crib on the west farm and get the auger, hooked to the Hydro, the combine, and a couple wagons moved the five or six miles up to the northernmost farm. The sun was nearly setting when I got seriously started. By that time tonight I had the first twenty four acre patch done. Last night I had to quit when I run low on fuel around nine in the evening. By that time tonight the frost had shut me down.

This morning I took a couple more wagons with me behind the pickup when I headed up to get going again. While the stay at gone mom ran the truck after some more diesel fuel for the combine I rolled up the rest of the old barbed wire running from the bin west up the hill to the old building site. While the combine warmed up I popped the old “T” posts so the fence crew could do their magic. I swear they can build a singing tight five barb wire fence with two “T” posts to every wooden post faster than I can pick the corn to pay for it.

When I quit tonight the wagons were full. At least the four I have already moved up there. Tomorrow I will take the last couple with me when I go up to get going. Today I never needed them. I may have, had the frost not come on so fast. Most of the day I picked a hopper and ended up full near to the bin so the whole twenty four acre field was hauled to one wagon sitting at the auger by the bin. The bin is nearly in the center of the field. I filled the second wagon by the bin with the little left overs I’d have after filling the first wagon with the second hopper each time, allowing me to go get a third full hopper before starting the auger.

Well I’d better call it a night. The stay at gone mom’s returned, the kids have had their showers and if there’s any hot water left Dad’s going to wash up and sleep a few winks.

Nudge nudge, wink wink.




Cows were out. Cows were in. Cows were out in the neighbors. Remember what I said about good fence making good neighbors?  This is a good neighbor. The fence between us is bad but he brought the cows back home twice. I was gone at the time. When I got home at dark last night there was a note on my door. It said forty cattle were out in his and another neighbor’s fields. There’s not much line fence between one of those neighbors and I. The one that happened to bring them home.

Welcome (back?) to Cocreator’s New Blog. How’s your day going?

We’ve never discussed which one of us the line fence in question belongs to. Usually if you’re facing your neighbor the fence on your right hand side is yours. For some reason this farm at home has some of the line fences backward. The one along the west and the one along the north have been switched. We have the left hand end on both. Bit the fence they ran through is on the north east corner on the east side. Years ago I lined the fence all along the east side of this farm with a smooth galvanized electric fence wire on ree bar posts.

The storm the other night brought the level of the water in the creek up the banks about three quarters of the way full. That swept over my hot wires I run across it on each end. The south end fence had a break on one end of the wire. That wire along with a couple posts were swung around and buried in mud and debris along the creeks other bank. That caused the hot wires on the whole farm to be dead. Or nearly so. Including the one all the way on the opposite corner where the cows finally found it yesterday evening.

I started out the brisk morning fixing that northwest corner. By two thirty in the afternoon I have all but one fence fixed, the cows re-re-corralled, sort of, and the muffler nearly torn off my KIA minivan from crossing the creek where I maybe shouldn’t have. So I’m taking a break and messing with a totally different kind of post. The kind that don’t hurt my hands when I try to straighten it back out. The kind on the internet. The kind the cows won’t bend all up trying to scratch themselves on it. At least not my cows. With cows losing their winter coats (come to think of it were is mine) now is not the time to have a dead wire on the electric fence. They’ll rub on anything that doesn’t shock them first. That’s hard on fence.

We’ve had a few more calves born since I was planting corn around them. Today as I run them back onto the pasture the corn was spiking through the ground. That’s nearly three weeks to come up. I was starting to wonder if it ever was going to emerge. It seems to be hesitating as if to say wait a minute here, we thought it was the middle of May. The  neighbor’s earlier planted corn that’s leafed out looks awful yellow. As is the corn spiking on my farm. I guess it’s already number two yellow corn. Better check the bid …….

That’s how my day’s going. Went from greasing the squeaking wheel to rounding up the mooing cattle. Took off the ball cap and put on the Stetson. Put aside the wrench bucket and pulled out the fencing bucket. You get the gist of it. Switching occupations. So if you’re up my creek, with or without a paddle, …….

See you then, see you there.





Good morning folks. Not to sound like a suspicious observer or anything. It is morning and I like the term folks. I don’t know why, maybe ’cause it sounds folksy. My formative early years were during the folk music era of the sixties. You remember, comfortably edged between the beatniks and the hippies. The baby boomers age of innocence. Peter Paul and Mary. Joan Baez. The Mommas and The Poppas. The circling of the psychic wagons around the holistic hitching post before the onslaught of Vietnam. Or more likely during it. The onslaught. Not “Nam. Well ……..

Glad I missed that. I’d have probably been a river rat in that one. I had the distinction of serving at the beginning of the all volunteer army. Or Navy in my case. Post ‘Nam. Right before they realized they needed a standing professional army. A couple enlisted personnel riots (one that I know of first hand) and subsequent large pay raises later and we have what we have today. An overworked and still underpaid group of “professional soldiers” running cover for a highly skilled well paid professional imperial mercenary force. Aka our turn of the wheel.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I enjoyed my two year stint in the cluster fucked circle jerking Micky Mouse Club while I was there. I got to breathe once in a while but mostly it’s memory is one akin of holding my breath waiting to breathe. I’ll never forget the smell of those northwest Florida forests as they booted my ass out the rear gate of NAS Pensacola and I realized I was free. I had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire when I entered the Navy. Graduated high school on Wednesday, boarded the plane for boot camp on Thursday. This was my first real taste of freedom.

Wednesday night Johnie had a kegger party in his mother’s garage celebrating our graduation so Thursday I got to travel hung over. I hate to say it but that became the norm in the Navy. The most traveling I’ve ever done. Always after somebody’s going away party. We were always going away to some damn different post in the Navy. If we weren’t one of our com-padres were. Here’s to the sojourner, may he have a pleasant trip. Fair skies and following winds. Bottoms UP! How about another round of shots!

Well I started this post to talk about the weather. 32 degrees. Wind out of the northwest. A couple inches of snow on the ground. April Fools a few days late. Winter again. Winter still. Since Halloween. Winter. Enough already. Snowflower. Go to seed and DIE. Come back a rain shower. A warm rain shower. Last year we had snow on May 1st. I guess I’d better not complain. Then I won’t complain. It is a good excuse to write in my blog.  My new blog. Aka Cocreator’s New blog. I hope you enjoy reading it. I know I enjoy writing it. I think I’ll wheel another large log into the basement in the wheelbarrow and split it in the warmth of the fire. Then I think I’ll make another cup of tea with lemon and honey and watch a little You Tube.

Have another wonderful round of winter. Like we have a choice. Not if we’re going to live here. Before long I’ll be bitching about the heat instead of trying to create it. Besides, snow has a definite chilling effect on spring fever. It may be good medicine.

See ya then, see ya there.



All Time High

Sounds like a personal problem.

Familiarity has it’s advantages. My old blog, CoCreator’s Blog, was dashboarded here at WordPress. Cocreator’s New Blog is made 100% road ready as a unit here at WordPress. Free and turnkey on. I simply settled in and started typing like the old days. Ah the old days. These are those before we know it. The list of things to do becomes two lists. The list of things done and the list of things that may never get done. How did old Froadie used to say that before he called it a day? “Don’t do today what you can put off until tomorrow, ’cause if you die tonight you won’t have to do it tomorrow.” Then we’d go have a beer. Guilt free.

I thought of old Froad today as I was hauling six bull calves off to the sale barn. He got a much undeserved ass chewing and was run clean off the farm of a brother of mine as we were sorting cattle. Actually before those cattle were even in the catch pen. All he did was tell my brother to calm down after the herd had done an end run around Froad and me. I don’t know if he ever made it right with Froad, or if one ever really could but me an’ Froad became com-padres that day and I look forward to having a beer with him in heaven some day. Without the “boss”. Calves are at an all time high so I guess I’ll be buying.

The great thing was I have learned a thing or two since that time so long ago. These six calves I was marketing today were self sorters. That is they separated themselves from the herd. I had a heifer in heat and all the bulls were dogging her for a chance to mate. She was looking for anywhere to get away from them. When I opened the gate on the catch pen she was very easy to steer (no pun intended) into it. A trailer load of the bulls eagerly bulldozed their way into it right after. (Again no pun intended) When I offered her a quick trip round the pen and right back out the bulls were so busy fighting, jockeying for the best position behind her they never even noticed she was gone until this morning I think. I had quickly fed them some shelled corn and some supremo hay on the ground inside the catch pen. Also known as something else to fight over.

To add the cherries to the top of this whole sundae (or was it Thursday? Wednesday? Both?) I flipped a coin (figuratively speaking) as to where they would be sold. I have three major sale barns about an equidistant trip from my farm gate. All of them have their regular sale on a different day of the week. I had decided that the one I was going to was the one that had the soonest sale. Which I had thought was Saturday. That would give me a few days to try to “sort” some more. As it turned out when I came wheeling up to the sale barn it was surrounded by pickups with stock trailers and nearly full of calves to sell at one of their special feeder calf sales. When fortune’s on your side you kind of have to run with it. One load is enough if that’s the case. There were no more bulls “riding” when I got home from the sale barn anyway.

Did I mention feeder cattle are at an all time high?