A Gathering

I woke this morning thinking naught but a confirming text message stood between me and a snow day -- or an ice day, to be more specific. Instead, I scraped thick ice off my borrowed 18 passenger van (usually used to transport seasonal farm hands) before motoring the 4.9 miles between the Adams homestead and my school.

This iciness is a recent change, as last week's warmth and sun followed by wind and torrential rain hinted at April. Between the downpours lay Saturday afternoon and early evening, and my industrious wife took to the yard as I prepared Sunday's sermon. 

After our landlady sent a group of men in late autumn to take out several of trees in the front yard -- trees which served as a sort of privacy fence at the house end of our half-mile gravel drive --  many of their branches still littered the front yard. 

Taking a half broken metal rake, she combed the yard clean of more than one season's debris into several heaps. By the time I finished my studying and outlining, she ready to begin hauling her work about 75 yards away to the edge of the field where a gaping sinkhole frustrates the yield of row-croppers.

She gathered. I carried. 

Soon, work complete, we retired to the house. 

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