I am about tired of tomatoes, I can tell you that. Probably one more picking, and we'll call it good. I dug the potatoes today, which were disappointing. I picked beans again, and pulled the onions. I have three more zucchini I have to figure out what to do with. Probably at this point just go ahead and shred them and put them in the freezer in 2 cup packages for zucchini bread.
Tim is building a lean to for the tractors at the side of the garage. He has been working on the Oliver, and finally got that operational, so he's a happy guy. He was going to sell the Oliver for the longest time. Now he's going to keep that because he wants a bucket loader (and he's got the bugs worked out of it). He loves the new (1956) Farmall because it has a winch, so now he's thinking to sell the old Farmall (1940 something)
I think he won't sell any of them.
So we worked on our projects, me in the garden, him on the garage. William bounced between the two of us, helping his grandfather, helping me. He was a good extra set of arms and learned how to use the level today.
So really, the only thing left, really are the pumpkins, which will need to be cooked down. We both love pumpkin soup and Tim loves pumpkin pie. It's quite a satisfying pile of fruits and vegetables in the chest freezer. Once we start stocking it with venison, we will be set for winter.
I drove home to begin work on the produce, and Hairy lay across the driveway, stretched out on his side, his back towards me. I stopped the car, and he did not move. I tooted the horn. He did not move. I got out of the car and made my way slowly to him. I expected him to be dead. He opened his eyes and looked lazily at me.
"Will you move?" I asked, giving him a nudge. He leisurely got up and moved to the other side of the driveway. As I was unloading the car, William got a dish of kibble for him. He moved very quickly when he heard that. What a stinker.
That's it really. Sometimes your most productive days will simply bore the snot out of everyone else. Sorry about your luck.