We humans are creatures of habit. We like things to follow a specific pattern and current. Repetitious days where everything fits, as long it doesn’t become monotonous. We like things to change up just a little, but not much. Only
Winter has moved in. The old boy has pretty much taken over, scattered himself all over the place, stretched out and put his feet up. The midwest is trudging along under blizzard conditions and the west is slopping through mud.
Autumn is moving in. The last tomato is in the can and cotton is being combed from the fields. There’s lots of dust and plenty of bugs swirling around. Our windshields need constant cleaning in order to have a clear
The monthly safety meeting included handouts of product labels. At first glance they looked identical. The issue was, one was a widely used insecticide, the other was a herbicide. Two things you never want to get mixed up. Our clocks
The weather forecast was 100% chance of hot with a 50% chance of miserable. The first few jobs were going to be done while the sun was still scowling down on the bone dry Central Valley. The Old Boy was
I rolled out of the rack at the crack of noon, opened the curtains to allow the glare of an unsympathetic sun singe my bleary eyes. My morning routine normally occurs in the afternoon this time of year. It’s never
“It was a dark and stormy night.” Sounds like the opening line to a third rate suspense novel doesn’t it? The suspense was little old me strapped into a Thrush plowing through torrential rain. Thunder, lightening, wind and dark coming