That’s the expected high today, so we’re scrubbing out a horse trough and filling it with cold water. We will sit in this periodically until it’s time to pass out.  I’ve been fairly busy lately, but you’d never know it around midday, when everything just shuts down. I might walk out in the yard and brush the mules or crush a few of their horseflies, but mostly I just sit by the fan. And the projects keep piling up. When we purchased the mules, we were  obliged to take what the seller referred to as a Conestoga Wagon. The way he described it,  I thought at worst it might be a factory job- not entirely useful, but something you could use to haul water or feed  in a pinch.  I was encouraged in this impression because he told us he’d driven it in  a couple of parades and  a wedding procession.  As we walked to the shed where he kept it,  I envisioned a prim little carriage with laquered wood panels and graphite composite spoked wheels with pneumatic tires.

I might have known it would be like this:

Those are bucket seats, Hoss.

Those are bucket seats, Hoss.

A little sad, even all tricked out for a wedding, don’t you think? To me, it looks more like a hearse for some depression era mass-murderer hillbilly icons…. say, Carl “Babyhead” Tilley and his love interest  Evangelina “Dot”  Poke.

Cue Flatt and Scruggs:

“He was a fumbling for her zipper when they hit the guard rail.

Drove straight into lake Mickey, and never lived to tell

how that risin’ water trapped them in that 34 Ford

Their killin’ spree ended in the arms of the Lord.

They was buried at a little church that stood by the lake

Drove ’em in a hoovercart (They’d blown through their take)

Some people say on full moons you can hear them from the bridge

Sounds like two gorillas bumpin’ uglies in a fridge.


“Babyhead”  and “Dot”

“Babyhead”  and  “Dot”

Once the terror of the Tri-state

Now they’re not.