Surprise!

My husband turns 50 on June 2, which is Tuesday.

He is working at the firehouse this cycle, which means he is on a 24-hour shift on Saturday, Monday and Wednesday.

He did not want a family and friend party. He asked for nothing special.

I don't think he is very happy about turning 50. The other day he went to Golden Corral while he was on duty and he received a senior citizen's discount. This disturbed him greatly. He even brought me home the receipt to show me!

And when he received his invitation to join AARP I thought I saw little flames come out of his ears.

I wanted to do something special for him, so I called the station one day and spoke to one of his firemen. I told him I wanted to bring a cake by, and he decided they would have a really nice dinner and I was invited.

Getting this set up took more effort than I would have imagined. At the end I wasn't even sure it would go off because my husband was assigned to work this shift as Acting Battalion Chief, which meant he would not even be at Fire Station #3!

However, as Acting Battalion Chief he could decide where he wanted to eat, and his crew told him to come and eat with them. Whew.

I arrived with the cake and ice cream before Acting Battalion Chief Firebaugh got there, so we hid the cake.



My husband told me he wasn't surprised and he knew that I had been cooking up something. Silly me to think I could pull something over on him.





Firemen eat very well when they want! We had grilled chicken breasts, kabobs and cooked pineapple. Yum!




He seemed to like the cake.

But then one of the firemen took a knife to it and cut the ladder off the top of it.



Apparently "real" fire engines don't have ladders on top of them, or something. There is a better picture of it at The Green House, which is the fire station's blog.

His men gave him a gift card to Lowe's, which was very nice of them.

My present for him has not yet arrived but I gave him a picture of it.

I am giving him a New Yorker style leather fire captain's helmet. These are handmade and can be used at work because they meet the right specifications.

All of my husband's gear is city-issued and I wanted him to have one of these. He has coveted one for many years but would not spend the $500 for it.

He seemed pleased.

Here are few pictures of them wrapping things up!







My husband started working with the fire department in February 1983. He is now one of the senior officers and is Captain of Fire House #3. I am very proud of him!

Happy Birthday, my love!

A Busy Day

Today is a busy day, not to mention an early one.

At 6 a.m. I was outside with a water hose and a Miracle Grow feeder. I wanted to get that done so it could dry off a bit before I started weeding.

After spending time at the computer, I will soon be heading back outside for chores. My roses need attention, the weeds need pulled. I think I'm going to transfer the marigolds out of the whisky barrel so those unknown mum-things won't choke them out.

Busy busy busy!

Tonight I am doing something special for my husband, who turns 50 on June 2. I'll write about that tomorrow! (No, not THAT!)

The Joy of Friends

I don't often write about my friends, mostly because I try to respect everyone's privacy. But today I think I will talk about some of these lovely women!

Yesterday I lunched with my friend B., who told me about her plans for a new home.

Building is so much fun! Imagine the great time she'll have packing away the house she's lived in for the last 22 years. She'll find stuff she won't remember owning.

Last week The Blue Ridge Gal came out for a visit and we walked the farm. I took her out across the hill and we saw a turkey fly off as we disturbed her. Diane saw the shadow of a deer as it slipped from the field into the woods.

And of course there were cows and cow piles ("Don't cut your foot!" I warned her, which made her laugh).

We took lots of pictures of the farm; it was a good clear day, one of the few we've had this month. Mostly this May it has rained.

Diane is a new friend and I enjoyed spending time with her. Blogging buddies are great!

My friend Jules has been very helpful with my career adventures. She's given me lots of advice and loaned me books on marketing, interviewing, etc. etc. Most importantly she has helped me with my resume, which has been a blessing because I haven't had to have a resume in a very long time.

Jules is a web site guru and she recently expanded into retail sales with indulgetea.com. Check out her store or if you want to learn more about tea, visit learn-about-tea.com.

Yesterday afternoon I spent a few minutes with Cathy, a friend and former coworker, when I ran into her at the library. It was a good gossip session, and I was glad to have some time to just shoot the breeze.

Two weeks ago, my friend Leslie and I went to a book fair, you might remember. We had a wonderful time.

Other ladies who have been supportive of me this past month include Inga, Lisa, Dreama, Anna and Nicole. My aunt, Carolyn, has also been good about listening to me knock ideas around this month.

I am sure I am probably leaving someone out but it is not intentional!

I am so blessed to have these and other ladies in my life. I can't tell you how grateful I am that these gals are around!

Too Cute!

Yesterday I happened to spy a doe and her new fawn in the field in front of the house.







When I came home this afternoon, a deer had eaten all of my roses.

I really think it was the mom, because for the last several years she has eaten them to a nub each time she's had her little one! I know because I have caught her in the act.

Growing Things

Tis the season for growing lovelies!



My roses have aphids but otherwise are doing fine. The rain keeps washing away the bug spray so I guess aphids are something I'll live with this year.



My zinnias are coming up. They are a little spottier than I'd hoped.



Last fall I rescued some plants from Home Depot that they called "mums" only they did not look like any mum I had ever seen.

I thought they would die over the winter but they have taken over this planter. I did not realize they would get so big. I planted a few marigolds in there for color while I watched the "mums" to see what they would do.

So far it looks like all they are going to do is grow leaves. They may be brilliant in the fall, though.

Whatever they do, they won't stay in that planter another year, though I might leave them there this summer.



This is a marigold. I planted a couple rows of them around my flower beds this year. I usually buy annuals but I thought I'd try seeds this time.



This is one of three geraniums that I rescued from the clearance bin at Walmart. They had been marked down to 40 cents.

So goes the growing.

Books: Creatively Self-Employed

Creatively Self-Employed: How Writers and Artists Deal with Career Ups and Downs
By Kristen Fischer
Copyright 2006, 2007
170 pages

Two years ago when this book came out, I purchased it because I am quoted in it on page 78.

Appropriately enough, I appear under the heading "The Procrastination Blues."

Two years later I have now read the book (talk about prophetic, eh?).

The author interviewed about 50 different writers, artists and other folks who are self-employed business persons to learn how to deal with the slow times, the boring times, the lonely times, and all of the other times in between.

The advice boils down to "time heals all wounds." Freelance work comes in fits and starts. If you are a life coach or something like that, clients come and go in spurts. If you make pocket books and travel the craft circuit, some years folks buy and some years they don't.

If you're a writer, the stories might flow but getting them purchased is something else again.

Dealing with all of that from the financial end as well as the emotional end can take the form of little activity, lots of activity, whining or gritting your teeth to move forward. In other words, as many ways as there are people.

Aside from the "time heals" message, the other thing I took from this self-published effort is not to give up, and to go with the flow, and to remember that I am not alone even if it feels like it.

I can quickly count up the number of folks I know who are in the freelance business, only they don't call themselves that. One is a marketer and a website guru, another is an interior decorator. Another is a woodcutter. And another puts in septic tanks (though I am pretty sure no one ever calls a septic tank installer or other kind of contractor a freelancer, though in essence they are). They all depend on their own efforts and a little luck to keep the money rolling in and their career moving forward.

Actually I have been quite fortunate in that (a) I was satisfied to be a one-woman article-churner for only a few companies and (b) that it lasted as long as it did. For me to only now experience my first real downturn in my work load in 13 years is really kind of mind boggling in the grand scheme of things.

This was a good book for me to read at this point in my life. Another thing it offers is a list of websites and resources, which I will eventually track down and review.

A website with the author's blog and other information, including the aforementioned resources, can be found here.

The Words That Define

On Friday, my massage therapist and I discussed my career situation and she suggested maybe I just needed to take time.

"You've been always doing doing doing for as long as I've known you," Karen said. "Maybe now it's time for you to start being."

Just "being" has always been a difficult task for me. I was raised to work. I've been cleaning house since I was able to walk. My mother had me dusting and washing dishes before I was four years old. I grew up on a farm and that meant feeding chickens, fostering calves by bottle-feeding, helping my parents get up hay, watching my younger brother. It meant getting off the bus at 4:15 p.m. when I was 10 years old and entering an empty house with my 7-year-old brother in tow, then gathering firewood, starting a fire, fixing a prepackaged dinner so it would be ready when my parents came home, and doing my homework without being told because if I didn't there were consequences.

It meant getting a job when I was 14 and working every summer except the year I was 17, when I did not work though I can't remember why. Maybe I couldn't find a job.

And then I married and I worked at jobs and tried to put myself through school. I quit the 9-5 life in 1994 to try freelancing and I was successful at that until a month ago. And that's my own fault for allowing myself to slip into the comfort of having all my eggs in one basket and not diversifying, really.

So I have always worked.

I have defined myself as writer, reporter, news person, secretary, student.

We are all daughters, sons, friends, lovers, husbands, wives. They are the labels that immediately give someone else an anchor, a way to to grab onto another's identity without having to give it much thought. After all, if a grown woman of 45 identifies herself to a stranger as "Anita, Glenda's daughter" doesn't that say as much as saying, "Anita, I'm a writer"?

Since I am redefining myself I wonder if I need new words.

I know I will always be a wife, daughter, friend. But I am more than those things.

I am a writer, with all the baggage that comes with that. A writer is a thinker, contemplative, artistic, imaginative, reader, word lover, inquisitive, etc.

Those words also define me.

Since it is Memorial Day I was thinking this morning that I would rather memorialize and remember words like peacemaker and pacifist than soldier and warmonger. After all, Christ says "Blessed are the peacemakers" in Matthew. But we don't have any days off for peacemakers. I would rather our society be defined as one of peace instead of one of war and anger, but I fear we are very much the latter.

Peacemaker and pacifist are also words that define me. I don't like loud angry voices or blood or gruesome murder. Some might call me a bleeding heart liberal because I don't believe in killing and war. I am okay with that.

I am probably not called a cook in any circle because I don't do that very well. I am a cook with an adjective like "adequate" though I would like to be a chef. It will never happen though because I haven't the patience to learn.

I will never be a mother but I suppose I am a childless woman in some circles. I don't think of myself in those terms very often, probably because it hurts.

My husband calls me his sweetie, and that's a nice thing to be.

I am not a novelist though I would like to be one. I suppose I could call myself one based on the unfinished scripts in the drawer but that seems not to fit - yet.

Nor do I call myself an author, because I have not published a book.

But I do call myself a writer. That one seems to fit.

The Wii Fit calls me "obese" every time I use it and I find that irritating if correct. I know I am overweight.

So now I am redefining myself. I am a first of all a human being.

Maybe that is it. That's all I need, something so basic and so simple.

A human being, full of love and warmth, kindness and compassion, someone who wishes only good for all of the world. A human being who understands that other souls ache and hurt and that the differences of the world are temporary in a lifetime, because eventually we all die.

"Hi, I'm Anita. I'm a human being."

I wonder what the stranger would say if I greeted her with that.

The Ball Game

Tuesday night we headed out to Vinton to watch the eldest nephew play the last baseball game of the season for Lord Botetourt.



Meet Emory. He plays shortstop. He is graduating from high school this year. In the fall he heads to University of South Carolina.

I am very proud.



That's his dad and his brother Chris, who turns 15 on Sunday. Happy Birthday, Chris!

I'm very proud of them, too. Chris will grow up to be the farmer of his generation, from the looks of it.



Despite our cheering, Alleghany beat the socks off of LBHS, and the nephew finished his last game at the high school level. Onward and upward to college!

What is it?

The other day I spied a doe laying in the field in the front.

I grabbed the camera, and about that time the phone rang.



As I stood snapping pictures, I saw something in the background. Since it was my husband on the phone, I explained to him I saw an animal I couldn't identify.




When I downloaded the pictures last night, I blew up the distant critter to see if I could tell what it was.



I'm pretty sure that is a BEAR!

The Unexpected

Hay fields are places that have more than grass.

They also harbor animals.

This week, with the sun shining down and the rains out of the forecast, the husband and his dad are cutting hay.

Animals in the field generally run away, but not always.

Young animals sometimes get caught in the machinery. I have heard tales of baby fawns getting mutilated in mowing machines. They hide in the tall grass and farmers simply can't see them.

Rabbits, groundhogs, etc. also have the same problem. They cower in fright and the machine gets them. The farmer can't see them.

This year a large bird of some kind laid eggs in the hay field.

Several of the eggs were crushed during mowing, but these were not. Of course the mother bird is nowhere to be seen and with her habitat gone she will abandon the nest.

My husband thinks these are wild turkey eggs, and if so that is very sad indeed. We love watching the wild turkey on the farm.

He brought them home to show me and then threw them out. No, we had no thoughts of eating them. Who knows how old those things are?

Sometimes stuff happens on a farm whether you want it to or not.

A Whole New World

When I found out 18 days ago that I would no longer be writing for the newspaper, a job I had coveted since I was 8 years old, I really thought my world had ended.

What would I do? What would happen? How would I pull my weight around the house? Contributing to the monetary account had always been important to me, and something I'd always done.

Thankfully the questions have now begun to dim. I still don't have a solid way to make a dollar but that is slowly losing its importance. I am gaining time and I am beginning to appreciate that. Now I have lots of hours to tend to my home, my yard, my garden. And most importantly, tender moments with my husband, not hurried smooches between interviews and government board meetings.

However, that doesn't mean I need to lose my skills and stop writing. A break is one thing. Stopping is quite another.

So I set today as my day to start ... something. As I write this (the night before, really) I still am not sure what that something will be. A writing project of some kind.

Maybe a new website.

Or a nonfiction book.

A poem. Or two.

Maybe that great American novel.

Or a memoir.

Something.

I have set myself a goal of spending two hours a day on a long-term project of some sort. Hopefully I will wake up with an idea of what that will be and by the time you read this I will be at the computer, working away. Then I will spend another two hours trying to find freelance work.

I won't be telling anyone about my long-term project, though, until I am well into it. I don't want to disappoint.

But do ask me how it's going, okay? Because it is good to know that someone cares if I fill my time with something other than soap operas or a video game.

It's kind of exciting, knowing I am on the cusp of a brand new day.

Spam Poem #2

The Charity Prince offered insight to guide
the possibilities in my private life.
No thanks, said I.
Nobody looks here.
Spice up your senses, earn more per week,
life can be better, the Prince urged.
Just one little click.
Relax and take your time.
This is helpful information.

Breathing life into my intimacy,
I bent my mouth close
to the ear of the supercharged desires
so my hot breath
could convey my message.
The thing I never knew existed, I whispered,
my lips caressing passionately the lobe
of my listener, is that I
am not to blame.


*Every line contains all or part of a subject line in one of the over 2,600 pieces of spam in my spam box.*

Pen Women

On Wednesday I attended a meeting of the Roanoke Branch of the National League of American Pen Women, a group I have been a member of for quite some time.

Our speaker was Rex Bowman, and I wrote more about it on the Pen Women blog, which I also maintain. You can read it here.

Becky at Peevish Pen is also a member of this group, along with Elena at Roanoke RNR. I think that is all the bloggers who are in there.

The Pen Women have opened up their 2009 Poetry Competition.

Here are the details:

NINTH ANNUAL POETRY COMPETITION

$100 First prize

Roanoke, VA – Virginia’s Roanoke Valley Branch of the National League of American Pen Women, winner of the 2009 Perry Kendig Award, is pleased to announce its 9th Annual Poetry Competition.

Proceeds from the Poetry Competition fund an annual scholarship, given to adult students who have returned to school.

Postmark deadline for entries is September 25, 2009. Cost per poem is $5.00; make checks payable to Roanoke Valley Branch, NLAPW. Prizes are $100, $75, $50 and Honorable Mention $5.

Rene Parks Lanier, Jr., Professor of English emeritus at Radford University, will judge the poems. Professor Parks served for many years as Poet-in-the-Schools at numerous Virginia counties and has been published in many small press and academic magazines. He also served five years as president of the Appalachian Writers' Association.

Poems are limited to 40 lines but may be on any subject and in any form. Please read the complete rules at roanokepenwomen.blogspot.com to ensure entry.

Generally, the rules are:
1) Only original, unpublished poetry accepted. Websites are considered publishing.
2) Submit two copies of each poem, typed on 8 ½" x 11" paper. Name, address and e-mail address on only one copy. No entry by e-mail. Incorrectly submitted poems will be disqualified. Poems and fees will not be returned.
3) Entry must be postmarked by September 25, 2009.
4) Winners will be notified by November 20, 2009.
Mail entries to:
Peggy Shifflett, Co-Chairman
700 Cherrywood Road
Salem, VA 24153

Good luck if you enter.

Daytrip

Yesterday my friend Leslie and I took a trip to the Green Valley Book Fair.

This is the second year in a row we've gone.

I forgot to take my camera, so that's last year's photo.

Green Valley is at Exit 240 on Interstate 81; it's about 90 miles to the north.

We left home around 8:25 a.m. and arrived at the book fair just before 10 a.m.

I had hoped to find some Tamara Pierce books but did not. I did find the second book in Clare Dunkle's Hollow Hills series, though.

I like to read young adult books as well as adult books. The YA books read quickly and are great for rainy Sunday afternoons. They go quickly, generally. Frankly, a lot of young adult books could be adult books. The only thing I find as a common denominator in young adult books is the youthfulness of the hero or heroine.

Here is what I brought home, along with the steeply discounted prices:

Creativity Notebook & Card Set ($6.50) which I did not purchase myself but Leslie bought and handed to me as a gift for driving because she saw me looking at it longingly but I put it down.

Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier ($3.50)

Close Kin, by Clare B. Dunkle ($2.50)

The Shakespeare Stealer, by Gary Blackwood ($2.25)

The Writer's Idea Book, by Jack Heffron ($3.50)

Tuck Everlasting, by Natalie Babbitt ($0.49)

Brave Enemies, by Robert Morgan ($3.50)

Finding Water, The Art of Perseverance, by Julia Cameron ($6.50).

I set myself a limit of $25 since I recently lost my main client and need to be thrifty, and I stuck with that. I could have brought home a lot more books, though.

Many of these will be donated to the library when I finish with them. I will probably keep the books related to writing/creativity. The library has long been the beneficiary of my book buying habits.

We wrapped up our tour of the Book Fair by lunch time, and headed to Dayton. This small town is just up the road a bit and has a wonderful Farmer's Market. We had lunch there, a plate of roasted vegetables and green beans with ham that was very good.

We shopped there for an hour and I picked up two quarts of McCutcheon's Apple Butter, which is my husband's favorite, and some chocolate.

Leslie bought a lot of stuff, including many Christmas presents, she said. I don't have any place much to store a significant amount of early Christmas presents at the moment.

Then we moved on the Shenandoah Heritage Market. I made no purchases here but Leslie bought rhubarb jelly and cherry jam.

During our drive up and back, we had lots of discussion about the changes in my life and what I should do now that I am not writing nearly full time for the local paper. I found this very helpful and I am grateful to Leslie for listening.

We arrived back home around 3 p.m., having made a rather quick day of it, really.

And last night in stormed and it rained about 1.5 inches in just about an hour!

Thursday Thirteen

Great things about no longer working all the time:

1. Time to clean... the house, the drawers, the closets, the car...

2. Reading. Those books gathering dust on the shelf are getting a real work out.

3. Window-watching. Just the other day as I looked out the window, I spied three deer, a kitty cat, a turkey and a raccoon!

4. Redoing the resume. Who knew that this kind of writing was the hardest of all? But it's always good to have the thing up to date.

5. Volunteering. I hadn't been without my largest client for 24 hours before the requests for my time and energy to some worthy call came pouring in.

6. Cooking. With a tighter budget, less prepared foods means brushing up on those cooking skills.

7. Gardening. Nothing like the threat of starvation (I'm just kidding, it's not that bad ... yet) to engender a green thumb!

8. Weight loss. I suppose it's the worry, because I didn't think I'd been doing very well at eating, but I've dropped a couple of pounds since April 30.

9. Exercise. More times means more Tai Chi. Or Wii Fit. Or whatever.

10. Video games. Plenty of time now to get it right on Farm Town on Facebook or get the highest score on Scramble or Word Challenge.

11. Caught up laundry. Seems like I used to think I had laundry to do all the time, now I really am doing it all time.

12. Social networking. All of those Facebook thingies I was ignoring now have a little appeal as I try to fill the hours.

13. Reading help wanted ads. I used to read these for story ideas; now I'm looking for a job.


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 96th one.

Self Publishing

Monday night I ventured into Roanoke, husband in tow, to go to the Roanoke City Main Library for a talk. The event was sponsored by Valley Writers, which is a group of writers I probably should belong to but don't.

The talk was on "The Pros and Cons of Self-Publishing." Becky Mushko, whose blog is the Peevish Pen, sort of emceed the event.

Becky has self-published a number of books, a couple of which I have here on my shelf. She is a good writer.

Anyway, the things discussed included real self-publishing, which involves using a printer and everything, and vanity or digital printing, also known as print-on-demand.

I wanted my husband to hear this talk so he would know what I might be getting into if I end up self publishing something.

Mostly he is concerned with numbers, as in dollars, and how much it would cost and what kind of profit you stand to make on a book.

Essentially it's a deal. If you spend a $1,000 you stand to get that as a return plus an additional $1,000. The trick, of course, is selling the books. That's always the hard part.

The other speakers were Jim Morrison, who has written and self-published a history book, Rodney Franklin, who has self-published a memoir, and Sally Roseveare, who has self-published fiction that is set at Smith Mountain Lake.

Print on demand seems like a logical way to go - less up front costs and decisions to make, for one thing.

The downfall to any of this is no editing, no promotion, and no upfront money. You have to do it all.

It was a very good talk and I will certainly ponder the information in the days and months to come as I try to steer my life in a new and exciting direction.

Farm Machinery

About two weeks ago, my husband decided it was time to wash and wax the farm machinery so he could use for the year.

This is his little tractor.



This is his farm tractor. It's an older model that we purchased in 1996. It was old when we bought it, actually.



This tractor belongs to my father-in-law, not to us, but the mowing machine behind it is ours. My father-in-law purchased the tractor last year (or maybe the year before that, not so long ago, anyway), and we just bought the mowing machine earlier this spring.



Time to cut hay! Onward and out!

Mother's Day

Mother's Day has always been a day of mixed emotion for me.

Since I am childless I will never know the joy of having a little one hand me a wilted dandelion, delight spreading a smile from ear to ear. I do not know the sacrifices mothers make, or the gains they have simply because they are a mom. I can imagine it from a daughter and wife perspective, but I can't really know, and never will.

My mother and I had a stormy relationship and there were many Mother's Days when I longed for a card that REALLY expressed how I felt.

Fortunately I never found one. I always ended up caving in to the sentimentality of it all. It was just as well.

Since my mother passed away, the day has turned into a focus on my mother-in-law, and rightly so. She is a dear, someone who puts up with a lot and asks for little.

This year we had thought to take her to dinner but the rains came and now the sun is shining. On Friday my husband looked at the weather forecast and predicted that he would be spending today from sun up to sundown in the fields cutting hay. "Get her flowers," he said, and since she is his mom, that is what I did. And he is where he thought he would be, on the tractor.

A little later today I will visit my mother-in-law and then I will venture to the cemetery to have a chat with my mother. I wonder what she thinks of me now?

To all my friends who are mothers, I hope that your children honor, love and respect you as good children should. I wish for you much joy in your sacrifice, and many wilted dandelions, brought to you with love.

"Across all these studies, the pattern of the strong crushing the weak kept repeating itself and repeating itself, so that when I was not bitterly angry, I was bored at the repetition of the patterns of persecution. When I was not desiring to be cruel with the cruel, I was a monster - like, perhaps, many others around me - who could look up torture and death without a shudder, and who therefore looked upon life without a belief in its preciousness." - Philip Hallie in Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed, (1979)

The Auction

On April 24, we headed up to Warrenton, VA, which is in the northern part of the state. It is about a four hour drive.

We planned an overnight stay.

We headed up Interstate 81.



Our first stop was The Cheese Shop in Stuarts Draft so I could replenish my supply of cinnamon, dried mustard and other assorted spices.



After we topped Afton Mountain on Interstate 64, we stopped at the lower viewing area so I could regain my equilibrium. Driving over mountains makes me a little sick.



Here there is a memorial to Virginia Department of Transportation workers who have been killed while working. Drive safe, people!



We stopped for dinner at Red Lobster in Charlottesville and then headed on our way. I forgot to take a picture.

We arrived in Warrenton to stay at this Holiday Inn Express. It was full of farmers.



Early the next morning we woke and went to the local IHOP for breakfast before heading out to our distination:



We were attending a farm tractor auction. There was a LOT of farm tractors and assorted machinery there.



These little toy tractors were the first items up for bid, and they sold for about $200 each. It was my first indication that bidding would be on the high end at this sale.



This is what we hoped to buy: a cattle trailer. My husband was not impressed with the looks of this one, though, because it was kind of beat up.




He really liked this tractor.



He liked this one too I guess because of its age or something.



I liked this tractor because it looked like a big workhorse muscle tractor.



We watched the bidding for quite a while. It was very warm - in the high 90s. I finally found a shade tree and sat under it with a book while my husband watched the auctioneer move among the machinery.

In the end, we didn't buy anything at all because the prices were very high. There were at least 1,000 people there and we saw vehicles from as far away as Montana and Alaska! I had never seen so many people at an auction before.