Papa
A few weeks ago, a little snowbird flew down from Canada.
This wasn't Dad's first rodeo, he packed work gloves.
He arrived at 6 on a Sunday evening and by 6:05 he was whisked away to help me feed livestock.
He toils well.
Painting.
Or digging up sweet potatoes. He was nonplussed about the black widow spider who hitched a ride into the house.
The weather has been miserable... killing frost, 6 days of rain, flooding. The dogs are most adaptable -- preferring to watch me work from the coziness of the truck cab.
Sometimes they volunteer to venture out in the elements.
Mostly though they rough out inclement weather this way:
Ordinarily, we're a pack of four. This month, it's been 5.
99% of the time, I value my posse's constant presence. 1% of the time, they're downright underfoot.
Par for the course around here.
Unfortunately, my truck wasn't able to avoid a bad water hazard after torrential rains a couple of weeks ago. We fell into this crevasse late one night. Nearly took out my radiator.
All along, Dad has kept on toiling...
Loading steel.
Building a barn. (Notice how safely he's perched)
Isn't this what everyone does when on vacation?
Do not be chagrined for him, he loves it.
It's genetic, he can't sit still.
I tried to take him out to local tourist attractions:
Once. Because one attraction is all we have.
Drive thru folk art gallery.
See, I know how to treat guest right.
Let's hope he comes back in Spring. Tons of work during planting season, ya know.
