Brush-Hog

The week before last, the girls and I drove to Nanticoke to put a desk in storage. We arrived in time to catch a few turns on the tractor as my dad brush-hogged the hayfield across from the house. Annie loved it, and loudly expressed her delight.



Millie loved it, too, expressing her delight with a downcast head and a little smile. She stood the entire time, wedged between my legs to avoid being jostled out by the bumps. Each time I was certain that she'd had enough, I'd ask, "Are you having fun?" (to which she'd vigorously shake her head "yes") or "Do you want to go back the house?" (to which she'd emphatically, though still silently, communicate "no"). Just look at that happy face...



Annie kept trying to share matters of great importance with Dad, but her little voice was hard to hear over the engine's rumble and a strong wind.



My dad just retired from 30-odd years working as a registered nurse, and he now has ample time to circle the fields with a brush-hog. He also now has more opportunities to wear his straw hat.







When we walked back to the house, we saw one of the red-breasted grosbeaks that mom and dad had been telling me about, with a red-winged blackbird thrown in for good measure. (Sorry about the quality; I took this picture through the window screen.)



Oh, and Mom fed us some fresh Rhubarb Custard Pie. I sure do love spring.