Hot And Cold

Standard tank top uniform.  Hmm, feels a little chilly (yes, I remember that word).  Put a denim shirt over the tank top.  Do the walkabout.  Hmm, feels right cold!  Take off denim shirt and put on a quilted flannel jacket.  Better.  While milking, watched mist roll in over the goat pen.  Scary for a minute because it looked just like smoke.  Back in the house, too chill for comfort.  Close one living room door.  Better.  Breeze blowing in.  Close the other door.  After what seemed like months, both doors were closed and it was an absolutely perfect day for what came next.

Clay, my son by another mother (too lengthy, I've decided to name him my "plus-one" Kid),  had called a day or so before and said he was coming up and was bringing some firewood.  Oh, goody!  I was thinking a truck bed of wood, and that would be so helpful.  My stash was pretty low going toward winter.  I didn't know Clay had acquired a new, big trailer and it and his truck were loaded to the gunnels with rounds, big rounds, of seasoned wood.  Following Steve's example, Clay is an accomplished scrounge and had scored this wood for free.  Steve would be so proud.  I'd like to say I helped unload this mountain of treasure, but truthfully was about as useful as teats on a boar, as my daddy used to say.  For an old gal, I've still got some pretty good "guns," but not enough for any but the smallest logs.  Poor Clay, who had to load the wood in the first place was stuck with the unloading, too.  And he said he'd be back next Tuesday with another truck and trailer!  The term is glutton for punishment.  I hope the weather will be as cooperative then.  Clay has split days off, so giving up one is a real gift, one I appreciate more than I can say.  The least I could do was give him a dinner to fill up his empty spot and hopefully replenish his energy.  As the firewood will warm the house in the future, Clay's company warmed my heart.

It was a good day in all ways.