“Honey, where’s the hay ring?”
“Probably where ever the stock tank is.”
Add that to the growing list of conversations I never thought I’d have.
We found both items across the pasture from where they started after a freak storm yesterday.
The problem with having enormous hundred-year-plus pecan trees is that their fallen branches are the size of most trees sitting in suburban yards. Our largest pecan tree, over 150 years old, is now half as tall as it was two days ago. She seems to have put up a fight, seeing as how she snapped the barbed wire fence in half on her way down.
Unfortunately we didn’t see the fence until dusk which left Hubs and I racing to find, unearth, then patch the fence before the neighbor’s livestock realized they had just gained an entire pasture to graze. We only got two strands up before the darkness swallowed our ability to work.
The high temperatures ensure we can only work in the late evenings. So we’ll be clearing the debris for the next week. More woodpiling. Can you feel my excitement?
Although, there is a silver lining in those storm clouds. Hubs has been trying to figure out how to fell a dead pecan tree in the pasture without the danger of rotted branches falling on him. The storm blew those pesky branches right off the tree and even put them in a neat little pile for us. Problem solved.