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thisnewdayHey Dave, tell me if you remember this one. It's a story Jack told, when we got back from the cemetary today. He wasn't sure if I'd been in on it but, once he started, I realized I hadn't been.
He also didn't say how old you were, at the time, but did mention how proud you were to be driving the tractor. I'm guessing you were ten or twelve, maybe. (Farm kids are precocious about things like that.) Was it that old green Oliver that Uncle George had? I remember riding sort of side-saddle on the fender of that one, holding on over the bumps, as he drove up between the corn fields. Not too safe, and certainly not comfortable, but pretty exciting for a city kid.
Anyway, Jack said that you'd hitched up the hay wagon but couldn't recall, other than that, what the two of you were doing. What he did remember was heading up that hill, into the orchard above the night pasture, when the pin fell out of the hitch.
The wagon drifted backwards, down the hill, picking up speed as it went. And when it hit that split rail fence, between the orchard and night pasture, it knocked part of it over. How long would you say it'd been there, before that? A hundred years, maybe? Good thing it was there, though. Otherwise the wagon might've rolled all the way down to old Route 99.
As it was, I'm guessing Grandad Knick heard the fall of it from his resting place on the same hillside where we left you today. I wonder if that was the first thing he asked about, after we left. (Good luck with that one.) According to Jack, though, you guys were far too busy re-stacking fence rails to worry about anything like that.
You know, I can just see you guys laughing your a**es off as you struggled to get those rails back up before anyone from the house came looking for you. And even though I'd probably have been on the wagon when it let go, I still wish I'd been there. Because, like you and Jack and Phil and Terry (and Timmy, when the folks would come from Grand Island), I've always counted our times at the Knick farm among the very best.
Well, that's all I have. I trust that I'll be seeing you, one of these days. If you wouldn't mind, say hello to the elders for me. You were the best...
LPK
LiveJournal
7.2.2007
He also didn't say how old you were, at the time, but did mention how proud you were to be driving the tractor. I'm guessing you were ten or twelve, maybe. (Farm kids are precocious about things like that.) Was it that old green Oliver that Uncle George had? I remember riding sort of side-saddle on the fender of that one, holding on over the bumps, as he drove up between the corn fields. Not too safe, and certainly not comfortable, but pretty exciting for a city kid.
Anyway, Jack said that you'd hitched up the hay wagon but couldn't recall, other than that, what the two of you were doing. What he did remember was heading up that hill, into the orchard above the night pasture, when the pin fell out of the hitch.
The wagon drifted backwards, down the hill, picking up speed as it went. And when it hit that split rail fence, between the orchard and night pasture, it knocked part of it over. How long would you say it'd been there, before that? A hundred years, maybe? Good thing it was there, though. Otherwise the wagon might've rolled all the way down to old Route 99.
As it was, I'm guessing Grandad Knick heard the fall of it from his resting place on the same hillside where we left you today. I wonder if that was the first thing he asked about, after we left. (Good luck with that one.) According to Jack, though, you guys were far too busy re-stacking fence rails to worry about anything like that.
You know, I can just see you guys laughing your a**es off as you struggled to get those rails back up before anyone from the house came looking for you. And even though I'd probably have been on the wagon when it let go, I still wish I'd been there. Because, like you and Jack and Phil and Terry (and Timmy, when the folks would come from Grand Island), I've always counted our times at the Knick farm among the very best.
Well, that's all I have. I trust that I'll be seeing you, one of these days. If you wouldn't mind, say hello to the elders for me. You were the best...
LPK
LiveJournal
7.2.2007
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Date: 2016-07-26 02:38 pm (UTC)