Cold Snap

Wednesday was warm and rainy. I had fans on and the windows and doors open. The temp topped out in the low 70’s. About 6 in the evening, the cold front blew in. Thursday the temp ranged from 41 to 37. The sun did not deign to show his face. Today will be much the same. Due to the opening of waterfowl season, there is the occasional flurry of a group of pick-ups, as hunters go to and from the pits and blinds. Farming traffic is pretty much finished for the year. No more mega-tractors, combines, or bizarre looking 3-wheeled spray rigs. And just the other day, I saw a pick-up pass by pulling 2 flat bed wooden wagons loaded with tobacco ready to be stripped. Now is the time for the reappearence of the one big truck that will become a familiar sight on back roads throughout the land. Kinda like our version of lighting the tree in Rockefeller Plaza to mark the official beginning of the holiday season. One that country folks everywhere can identify with. We have a weird kind of love/hate relationship with it. In the boonies there are no natural gas lines. But damn near every yard sprouts a “could this thing be any friggin uglier?” propane tank. I love Eric “Slow Hand” Clapton’s music. This song has absolutely nothing to do with him, but it is a parody of one of his hits. Pinkard and Bowden, you have a unique and wonderful talent. So roll up a page of newspaper, twist it tightly, apply the Zippo, and hope like hell it will stay lit till you can ignite that pilot light designed with professional contortionists in mind.Then fire up that furnace, kick back and give this a listen. And keep your ears open for that welcome/dreaded rumblin sound...

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